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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


RICHELIEU; 

OK, 

THE     CONSPIRACY. 

^  '43132, 
IN    FIVE    ACTS. 

TO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED, 

HISTORICAL    ODES 

ON 

THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  ELIZABETH; 

CROMWELL'S  DREAMj 

THE  DEATH  OF  NELSON. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  LADY  OF  LYONS," 
"  PELHAM,"  "  THE  DISOWNED,"  &C. 


NEW-YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   82   CLIFF-ST. 

183  9. 


OA^ 


"  Le  Cotnte  de  Soissons,  et  le  Due  de  Bouillon,  avaient  une  bonne 
annee,et  lis  savaient  la  conduire  ;  et  pour  plus  grande  surete,  tandis 
que  cette  annee  devait  s'avancer,  on  devait  assassmer  le  cardinal  et 

faire  soulever  Paris Les  conjures  faisaicnt  un  trait^ 

avec  I'Espagne  pour  introduire  des  troupes  en  France,  et  pour  y 
mettre  tout  en  confusion  dans  une  regence  qu'on  croyait  prochaine, 
et  dont  chacun  cspeiait  profiler  ....  Richelieu  avait  perdu 
toute  sa  faveur,  et  ne  conservait  que  I'avantage  d'etre  necessaire.  Le 
oonheur  du  cardinal  voulat  encore  que  le  complot  fut  decouvert,  et 
qu'une  copie  du  traite  lui  tombat  entre  les  mains." — Voltaire, 
Hist.  Gen. 


PREFACE    TO    RICHELIEU. 


The  administration  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  whom 
(despite  all  his  darker  qualities)  Voltaire  and  history 
justly  consider  the  true  architect  of  the  French  mon- 
archy and  the  great  parent  of  French  civilization,  is 
characterized  by  features  alike  tragic  and  comic.  A 
weak  king,  an  ambitious  favourite  ;  a  despicable  con- 
spiracy against  the  minister,  nearly  always  associated 
with  a  dangerous  treason  against  the  state  :  these,  with 
little  variety  of  names  and  dates,  constitute  the  event- 
ful cycle  through  which,  with  a  dazzling  ease  and  an 
arrogant  confidence,  the  great  luminary  fulfilled  its  des- 
tinies. Blended  together  in  startling  contrast,  we  see 
the  grandest  achievements  and  the  pettiest  agents  ;  the 
spy,  the  mistress,  the  Capucliin  ;  the  destruction  of  feu- 
dalism ;  the  humiliation  of  Austria ;  the  dismember- 
ment of  Spain. 

Richelieu  himself  is  still  what  he  was  in  his  own  day, 
a  man  of  two  characters.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  he  is 
justly  represented  as  inflexible  and  vindictive,  ci-afty 
and  unscrupulous ;  so,  on  the  other,  it  cannot  be  de- 
nied that  he  was  placed  in  times  in  which  the  long  im- 
punity of  every  license  required  stern  examples  ;  that 
he  was  beset  by  perils  and  intrigues,  which  gave  a 
certain  excuse  to  the  subtlest  inventions  of  self-de- 
fence ;  that  his  ambition  was  inseparably  connected 
with  a  passionate  love  for  the  glory  of  his  country ; 
and  that,  if  he  was  her  dictator,  he  was  not  less  her 
benefactor.  It  has  been  fairly  remarked  by  the  most 
impartial  historians,  that  he  was  no  less  generous  to 
merit  than  severe  to  crime ;  that,  in  the  various  de- 
partments of  the  state,  the  army,  and  the  church,  he 
selected  and  distinguished  the  ablest  aspirants ;  that 

A  2 


VI  PREFACE. 

the  wars  which  he  conducted  were,  for  the  most  part, 
essential  to  the  preservation  of  France,  and  Europe  it- 
self, from  the  formidable  encroachments  of  the  Austrian 
house ;  that,  in  spite  of  those  wars,  the  people  were 
not  oppressed  with  exorbitant  imposts ;  and  that  he  left 
the  kingdom  he  had  governed  in  a  more  flourishing  and 
vigorous  state  than  at  any  former  period  of  the  French 
history,  or  at  the  decease  of  Louis  XIV. 

The  cabals  formed  against  this  great  statesman 
were  not  carried  on  by  the  patriotism  of  public  virtue 
or  the  emulation  of  equal  talent :  they  were  but  court 
struggles,  in  which  the  most  worthless  agents  had  re- 
course to  the  most  desperate  means.  In  each,  as  I 
have  before  observed,  we  see  the  twofold  attempt  to 
murder  the  minister  and  to  betray  the  country.  Such, 
then,  are  the  agents,  and  such  the  designs,  with  which 
truth,  in  the  drama  as  in  history,  requires  us  to  con- 
trast the  celebrated  cardinal;  not  disguising  his  foibles 
or  his  vices,  but  not  unjust  to  the  grander  qualities 
(especially  the  love  of  country)  by  which  they  were 
often  dignitied,  and,  at  times,  redeemed. 

The  historical  drama  is  the  concentration  of  histor- 
ical events.  In  the  attempt  to  place  upon  the  stage  the 
picture  of  an  era,  that  license  with  dates  and  details 
which  poetry  permits,  and  which  the  highest  author- 
ities in  the  drama  of  France  herself  have  sanctioned, 
has  been,  though  not  unsparingly,  indulged.  The  con- 
spiracy of  the  J3uc  de  Bouillon  is,  for  instance,  amalga- 
mated with  the  denouement  of  The  Day  of  Dupes;*  and 
circumstances  connected  with  the  treason  of  Cinq  Mars 
(whose  brilliant  youth  and  gloomy  catastrophe  tend  to 
subvert  poetic  and  historic  justice,  by  seducing  us  to 
forget  his  base  ingratitude  and  his  perfidious  apostacy) 
are  identified  with  the  fate  of  the  earlier  favourite 

*  Le  cardinal  se  croit  perdu,  et  prepare  sa  retraite.  Ses  amis  lui 
conseillent  de  tenter  entin  aupr^s  du  roi  un  nouvel  effort.  Le  car- 
dinal va  trouver  le  roi  a  Versailles.  Le  roi  qui  avail  sacrifie  soil 
ministre  par  faiblesse,  se  remit  par  faiblesse  entre  ses  mains,  et  il  lui 
abandonne  ceux  qui  I'avaient  perdu.  Ce  jour  qui  est  encore  a  pres- 
ent appelle  la  Joumie  des  Dupes,  fut  celui  du  pouvoir  absolu  du  car- 
dinal.— Voltaire,  Hist.  Gen. 


PREFACE.  Vll 

Baradas,*  whose  sudden  rise  and  as  sudden  fall  passed 
into  a  proverb.  I  ought  to  add,  that  the  noble  romance 
of  Cinq  Mars  suggested  one  of  the  scenes  in  the  fifth 
act ;  and  that  for  the  conception  of  some  portion  of  the 
intrigue  connected  with  De  Mauprat  and  Julie,  I  am, 
with  great  alterations  of  incident,  and  considerable,  if 
not  entire  reconstruction  of  character,  indebted  to  an 
early  and  admirable  novel  by  the  author  of  Picciola.] 

London,  April,  1839. 

*  En  six  mois  il  (le  roi)  fit  (Baradas)  premier  ecuyer,  premier  gen- 
tilhornme  de  la  chambre,  Capitaiue  de  St.  Germain,  and  lieutenantde 
roi,  en  Champagne.  En  moins  de  temps  encore,  on  lui  ota  tout,  et 
des  debris  de  sa  grandeur,  a.  peine  lui  reslat-il  de  quoi  payer  ses 
dettes :  de  sorte  que  pour  signitier  une  grande  fortune  dissipee  aussi 
qu'acquise  on  disoit  en  commun  proterbe  Fortune  de  Baradas. — An- 
qitetU. 

t  It  may  be  as  well,  however,  to  caution  the  English  reader  against 
some  of  the  impressions  which  the  eloquence  of  both  the  writers 
I  refer  to  are  calculated  to  leave.  They  have  exaggerated  the  more 
evil,  and  have  kept  out  of  sight  the  nobler,  qualities  of  the  cardinal. 


PERSONS  OF  THE  DRAMA, 

AS    PERFORMED    AT    THE    THEATRE-ROYAL,    COVENT    GARDEN, 

THURSDAY,   MARCH    7,    1839. 


Men. 

Louis  the  Thirteenth Mr.  Elton. 

Gaston,  Duke  of  Orleans,  hroUier  to 

Louis  XIII. Mr.  Diddear. 

Baradas,  favourite  of  the  king,  first 
gentleman  of  the  chamber,  premier 
ecuijer,  dfe Mr.  Warde. 

Cardinal  Richelieu Mr.  Macrkady. 

The  Chevalier  de  Mauprat     .     .     .     Mr.  Anderson. 

The  Sieurde  Beringhen  {in  attendance 

on  the  king*  one  of  the  conspirators)     Mr.  Vining. 

Joseph,  a  Capuchin,  Richelieu'' s  confi- 
dant   Mr.  Phelps. 

Huguet,  an  officer  of  Richelieu's  house- 
hold guard,  a  spy Mr.  Bennett. 

Francois, _;?r5<  page  to  Richelieu     .     .     ]\Ir.  Howe. 

First  Courtier Mr.  Roberts. 

Captain  of  the  Archers Mr.  Matthews. 

First,     ^  C  Mr.  Tilbury. 

Second,  >  Secretaries  of  state       .     .     .<  Mr.  Yarnold. 

Third     )  {  Mr.  Payne. 

Governor  of  the  Bastile      .     .     .     .     .     Mr.  Waldron. 

Jailer Mr.  Ayliffe. 

Courtiers,  Pages,  Conspirators,  Officers,  Soldiers,  <fc. 

Women. 

Julie  de  Mortemar,  an  orphan,  ward 

to  Richelieu Miss  H.  Faucit. 

Marion  de  Lorme,  mistress  to  Orleans, 

but  in  Richelieu^s  pay Miss  Charles. 

*  Properly  speaking,  the  king's  first  Valet  de  Chambre,  a  post  of 
great  importance  at  that  time. 


NOTE. 

The  length  of  the  play  necessarily  requires  curtailments  on  the 
etage,  the  principal  of  which  are  specified  (as  they  occur)  in  mar- 
ginal notes.  Many  of  the  passages  thus  omitted,  however  immate- 
rial to  the  audience,  must  obviously  be  such  as  the  reader  would  be 
least  inclined  to  dispense  with,  viz.,  those  which,  without  being  ab- 
solutely essential  to  the  business  of  the  stage,  contain  either  the 
subtler  strokes  of  character,  or  the  more  poetical  embellishments  of 
description.  A  more  important  consequence  of  these  suppressions  is, 
that  Richelieu  himself  is  left,  too  often  and  too  unrehevedly,  to  po- 
sitions which  place  him  in  an  amiable  light,  without  that  shadowing 
forth  of  his  more  sinister  motives  and  his  fiercer  qualities  which  is 
attempted  in  the  written  play.  Thus,  the  character  takes  a  degree  of 
credit  due  only  to  the  situation.  To  judge  the  author's  conception  of 
Richelieu  fairly,  and  to  estimate  how  far  it  is  consistent  with  liistori- 
cal  portraiture,  the  play  must  be  read. 


RICHE  LIEU; 

OR, 

THE     CONSPIRACY. 

A  C  T   I. 

iF  i  V  s  t    29  a  g. 
SCENE    I. 

A  room  in  the  house  of  Marion  de  Lorme  ;  a  table  towards 
the  front  of  the  stage  {ivith  luine,  fruits,  dfc),  at  ivhich 
are  seated  Baradas,  four  courtiers,  sflendidly  dressed  in 
the  costume  of  1641-2 ;  the  Duke  of  Orleans  reclining  on 
a  large  fauteuil ;  Marion  de  Lorme,  standing  at  the  hack 
of  his  chair,  offers  him  a  goblet  and  then  retires.  At 
another  table,  De  Bcringhen,  De  Mauprat,  playing  at 
dice;  other  courtiers,  of  inferior  rank  to  those  at  the 
table  of  the  duke,  looking  on. 

ORLEANS  {drinking). 
Here's  to  our  enterprise  ! 

BARADAS  {glancing  at  Marion). 
Hush,  sir ! 

ORLEANS  {aside). 

Nay,  count, 
You  may  trust  her ;  she  dotes  on  me  ;  no  house 
So  safe  as  Marion's.*    At  our  stateher  homes 
The  very  walls  do  play  the  eavesdropper. 
There's  not  a  sunbeam  creeping  o'er  our  floors 
But  seems  a  glance  from  that  malignant  eye 
"Which  reigns  o'er  France  ;  our  fatal  greatness  lives 
In  the  sharp  glare  of  one  relentless  day. 
But  Richelieu's  self  forgets  to  fear  the  sword 

*  Omitted  in  representation,  from  "  At  our  statelier  homes,"  line 
3,  to  the  end  of  speech,  line  13 


12  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT    I. 

The  myrtle  hides ;  and  Marion's  silken  robe 
Casts  its  kind  charity  o'er  fiercer  sins 
Than  those  which  haunt  the  rosy  path  between 
The  lip  and  eye  of  beauty.     Oh,  no  house 
So  safe  as  Marion's. 

BARADAS. 

Still,  we  have  a  secret, 
And  oil  and  water — woman  and  a  secret — 
Are  hostile  properties. 

ORLEANS. 

Well — Marion,  see 
How  the  play  prospers  yonder. 

(Marion  goes  to  the  next  table,  looks  on  for  a  few  moments, 

then  exit.) 

BARADAS  {producing  a  parchment). 

I  have  now 
All  tTie  conditions  drawn ;  it  only  needs 
Our  signatures  :  upon  receipt  of  this 
(Whereto  is  joined  the  schedule  of  our  treaty 
With  the  count-duke,*  the  Richeheu  of  the  Escurial), 
Bouillon  will  join  his  army  with  the  Spaniard, 
March  on  to  Paris,  there  dethrone  the  king; 
You  will  be  regent ;  I  and  ye,  my  lords, 
Form  the  new  council.     So  much  for  the  core 
Of  our  great  scheme. 

ORLEANS. 

But  Richelieu  is  an  Argus  ; 
One  of  his  hundred  eyes  will  light  upon  us, 
And  then — good-by  to  life. 

BARADAS. 

To  gain  the  prize 
We  must  destroy  the  Argus  :  ay,  my  lords, 
The  scroll  the  core,  but  blood  must  fill  the  veins 
Of  our  design  ;  while  this  despatched  to  Bouillon, 
Richelieu  despatched  to  Heaven  !     The  last  tny  charge 
Meet  here  to-morrow  night.     You,  sir,  as  first 
In  honour  and  in  hope,  meanwhile  select 
Some  trusty  knave  to  bear  the  scroll  to  Bouillon ; 
Mid  Richelieu's  foes  77/  find  some  desperate  hand 
To  strike  for  vengeance,  while  we  stride  to  power. 

*  Olivares,  Minister  of  Spain. 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  13 


ORLEANS. 

So  be  it ;  to-morrow,  midnight.     Come,  my  lords. 

[Exeunt  Orleans  and  the  courtiers  in  his  tram.  Those 
at  the  other  table  rise,  salute  Orleans,  and  reseat 
themselves. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Double  the  stakes. 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

Done. 

DE  BERINGHEN. 

Bravo  ;  faith,  it  shames  me 
To  bleed  a  purse  already  m  extremis. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Nay,  as  you've  had  the  patient  to  yourself 
So  long,  no  other  doctor  should  despatch  it. 

{De  Mauprat  throws  and  loses.) 

OMNES. 

Lost !    Ha,  ha,  poor  De  Mauprat ! 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

One  throw  more  ? 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

No;  I  am  bankrupt  {pushing  gold).    There  goes  all— ^ 

except 
My  honour  and  my  sword.     {They  rise.) 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Long  cloaks  and  honour 
Went  out  of  vogue  together,  when  we  found 
We  got  on  much  more  rapidly  without  them ; 
The  sword,  indeed,  is  never  out  of  fashion ; 
The  devil  has  care  of  that. 

FIRST   GAMESTER. 

Ay,  take  the  sword 
To  Cardinal  Richelieu :  he  gives  gold  for  steel 
When  worn  by  brave  men. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Richelieu ! 


14  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT    I. 


DK  BERiNGHEN  {io  Baiadas). 

At  that  name 
He  changes  colour,  bites  his  nether  hp. 
Ev'n  in  his  brightest  moments  whisper  "  RicheUeu," 
And  you  cloud  all  his  sunshine. 

BARADAS. 

I  have  raark'd  it, 
And  I  will  learn  the  wherefore. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

The  Egyptian 
Dissolved  her  richest  jewel  in  a  draught : 
Would  I  could  so  melt  time  and  all  its  treasures, 
And  drain  it  thus  {drinking). 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Come,  gentlemen,  what  say  ye :" 
A  walk  on  the  Parade  ! 

OMNES. 

Ay  ;  come,  De  Mauprat. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Pardon  me ;  we  shall  meet  again  ere  nightfall. 

BARJVDAS. 

I'll  stay  and  comfort  Mauprat. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Comfort !  when 
We  gallant  fellows  have  run  out  a  friend. 
There's  nothing  left,  except  to  run  him  through ! 
There's  the  last  act  of  friendship. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Let  me  keep 
That  favour  in  reserve  ;  in  all  besides 
Your  most  obedient  servant. 

[Exeunt  De  Berlnghen,  dfc.     Mancnt  de  Mauprat  and 
Baradas. 

BARADAS. 

You-  have  lost, 
Yet  are  not  sad. 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  15 


DE    MAUPRA.T. 

Sad  !     Life  and  gold  have  wings, 
And  must  fly  one  day :  open,  then,  their  cages, 
And  wish  them  merry. 

BARADAS. 

You're  a  strange  enigma : 
Fiery  in  war,  and  yet  to  glory  lukewarm  ; 
All  mirth  in  action,  in  repose  all  gloom. 
These  are  extremes  in  which  the  unconscious  heart 
Betrays  the  fever  of  deep-fix'd  disease. 
Confide  in  me  !  our  young  days  roU'd  together 
In  the  same  river,  glassing  the  same  stars 
T]iat  smile  i'  the  heaven  of  hope ;  alike  we  made 
Bright-wing'd  steeds  of  our  unform'd  chimeras, 
Spurring  the  fancies  upward  to  the  air, 
Wherein  we  shaped  fair  castles  from  the  cloud. 
Fortune  of  late  has  sever'd  us,  and  led 
Me  to  the  rank  of  courtier,  count,  and  favourite, 
You  to  the  titles  of  the  wildest  gallant 
And  bravest  knight  in  France  ;  are  you  content  1 
No ;  trust  in  me  ;  some  gloomy  secret — 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Ay; 

A  secret  that  doth  haunt  me,  as,  of  old. 

Men  were  possessed  of  fiends  !     Where'er  I  turn, 

The  grave  yawns  dark  before  me  I     I  will  trust  you ; 

Hating  the  cardinal  and  beguiled  by  Orleans, 

You  know  I  join'd  the  Languedoc  revolt — 

Was  captured — sent  to  the  Bastile — 

BARADAS. 

But  shared 
The  general  pardon,  which  the  Duke  of  Orleans 
Won  for  himself  and  all  in  the  revolt. 
Who  but  obey'd  his  orders. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Note  the  phrase, 
"  Obey''d  his  orders.''''     Well,  when  on  my  way 
To  join  the  duke  in  Languedoc,  I  (then 
The  down  upon  my  lips — less  man  than  boy) 
Leading  young  valours,  reckless  as  myself, 


16  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT    I. 

Seized  on  the  town  of  Faviaux,  and  displaced 
The  royal  banners  for  the  rebel.     Orleans 
(Never  too  daring),  when  I  reach'd  the  camp, 
Blamed  me  for  acting — mark — ivithout  his  orders: 
Upon  this  quibble  Richelieu  razed  my  name 
Out  of  the  general  pardon. 

BARADAS. 

Yet  released  you 
From  the  Bastile — 

DE    MAUPKAT. 

To  call  me  to  his  presence, 
And  thus  address  me  :  "  You  have  seized  a  town 
Of  France  without  the  orders  of  your  leader, 
And  for  this  treason,  but  one  sentence — Death 


» 


BARADAS. 

Death! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

■  "  I  have  pity  on  your  youth  and  birth, 
Nor  wish  to  glut  the  headsman ;  join  your  troop. 
Now  on  the  march  against  the  Spaniards ;  change 
The  traitor's  scaffold  for  the  soldier's  grave  ; 
Your  memory  stainless,  they  who  shared  your  crime 
Exiled  or  dead,  your  king  shall  never  learn  it." 

BARADAS. 

Oh  tender  pity !     Oh  most  charming  prospect ! 
Blown  nito  atoms  by  a  bomb,  or  drill'd 
Into  a  cullender  by  gunshot !     WelU 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

You  have  heard  if  I  fought  bravely.     Death  became 
Desired  as  Daphne  by  the  eager  Day  god. 
Like  him,  I  chased  the  nymph— to  grasp  the  laurel ! 
I  could  not  die  ! 

BARADAS. 

Poor  fellow ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

When  the  cardinal 
lieview'd  the  troops,  his  eye  met  mine ;  he  frown'd, 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  17 

Summon'd  me  forth.    "  How's  this !"  quoth  he ;  "  you 

have  shunn'd 
The  sword,  beware  the  axe  !  'twill  fall  one  day  !" 
He  left  me  thus ;  we  were  recall'd  to  Paris, 
And — you  know  all ! 

BARADAS. 

And,  knowing  this,  why  halt  you, 
Spell'd  by  the  rattlesnake,  while  in  the  breasts 
Of  your  firm  friends  beat  hearts,  that  vow  the  death 
Of  your  grim  tyrant  ?     Wake  !     Be  one  of  us  ; 
The  time  invites  ;  the  king  detests  the  cardinal ; 
Dares  not  disgrace  ;  but  groans  to  be  delivered 
Of  that  too  great  a  subject ;  join  your  friends, 
Free  France,  and  save  yourself. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Hush !  Richelieu  bears 
A  charm'd  life  :  to  all  who  have  braved  his  power, 
One  common  end — the  block. 

BARADAS. 

Nay ;  if  he  live, 
The  block  your  doom  ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Better  the  victim,  count, 
Than  the  assassin.     France  requires  a  Richelieu, 
But  does  not  need  a  Mauprat.     Truce  to  this  ; 
All  time  one  midnight,  where  my  thoughts  are  spectres. 
What  to  me  fame  1     What  love  ! 

BARADAS. 

Yet  dost  thou  love  not  ? 

DB    MAUPRAT. 

Love  1    I  am  young — 

BARADAS. 

And  Julie  fair  !     {Aside)  It  is  so ; 
Upon  the  margin  of  the  grave,  his  hand 
Would  pluck  the  rose  that  I  would  win  and  wear ! 
{Aloud)*  [Thou  lovest— 

*  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  representatioo. 
B  2 


J8  RICHELIEU;    OR,  [aCT    I. 


DE   MAUPRAT. 

Who,  lonely  in  the  midnight  tent. 
Gazed  on  the  watchfires  in  the  sleepless  air. 
Nor  chose  one  star  amid  the  clustering  hosts 
To  bless  it  in  the  name  of  some  fair  face 
Set  in  his  spirit,  as  that  star  in  heaven? 
For  our  divine  affections,  like  the  spheres, 
Move  ever,  ever  musical. 

BARADAS. 

You  speak 
As  one  who  fed  on  poetry. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Why,  man. 
The  thoughts  of  lovers  stir  with  poetry 
As  leaves  with  summer-wind.     The  heart  that  loves 
Dwells  in  an  Eden,  hearing  angel-lutes. 
As  Eve  in  the  first  garden.     Hast  thou  seen 
My  Julie,  and  not  felt  it  hencefortli  dull 
To  live  in  the  common  world,  and  talk  in  words 
That  clothe  the  feelings  of  the  frigid  herd  1 
Upon  the  perfumed  pillow  of  her  lips — 
As  on  his  native  bed  of  roses  flush'd 
W'ith  Paphian  skies — Love  smiling  sleeps  :  her  voice, 
The  bless'd  interpreter  of  thoughts  as  pure 
As  virgin  wells  where  Dian  takes  delight, 
Or  fairies  dip  their  changelings !     In  the  maze 
Of  her  harmonious  beauties,  modesty 
(Like  some  severer  grace  that  leads  the  choir 
Of  her  sweet  sisters),  every  airy  motion 
Attunes  to  such  chaste  charm,  that  passion  holds 
His  burning  breath,  and  will  not  with  a  sigh 
Dissolve  the  spell  that  binds  him !     Oh  those  eyes 
That  woo  the  earth,  shadowing  more  soul  than  lurks 
Under  the  lids  of  Psyche  !     Go  !  thy  lip 
Curls  at  the  purfled  phrases  of  a  lover; 
Love  thou,  and  if  thy  love  be  deep  as  mine, 
Thou  wilt  not  laugh  at  poets. 

BABADAS  (aside). 

With  each  word 
Thou  wak'st  a  jealous  demon  in  my  heart. 
And  my  hand  clutches  at  my  hilt — ] 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  19 


DE  MAUPRAT  {gayly). 

No  more ! 
I  love  !     Your  breast  holds  both  my  secrets  ;  never 
Unbury  either!     Come,  while  yet  we  may, 
We'll  bask  us  in  the  noon  of  rosy  life  : 
Lounge  through  the  gardens,  flaunt  it  in  the  taverns, 
Laugh,  game,  drink,  feast :  if  so  confined  my  days, 
Faith,  I'll  enclose  the  nights.     Pshaw  !  not  so  grave ; 
I'm  a  true  Frenchman  !     Vice  la  basatelle  I 


■a ' 


{As  they  are  going  out,  enter  Huguet  and  four  arquebu- 

siers.) 

HUGUET. 

Messire  de  Mauprat,  I  arrest  you  I     Follow 
To  the  lord  cardinal. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

You  see,  my  friend, 
Fm  out  of  my  suspense  !  the  tiger's  play'd 
Long  enough  with  his  prey.     Farewell !     Hereafter 
Say,  when  men  name  me,  "  Adrien  de  Mauprat 
Lived  without  hope  and  perish'd  without  fear !" 

\^Exeunt  de  Mauprat,  Huguet,  (^c. 

BARADAS. 

Farewell !  I  trust  for  ever !     I  design'd  thee 

For  Richelieu's  murderer,  but  as  well  his  martyr! 

In  childhood  you  the  stronger,  and  I  cursed  you ; 

In  youth  the  fairer,  and  I  cursed  you  still ; 

And  now  my  rival !     While  the  name  of  Julie 

Hung  on  thy  lips,  I  smiled,  for  then  I  saw 

In  my  mind's  eye  the  cold  and  grinning  death 

Hang  o'er  thy  head  the  pall !     Ambition,  love, 

Ye  twin-born  stars  of  daring  destinies. 

Sit  in  my  house  of  life  !    By  the  king's  aid 

I  will  be  Julie's  husband,  in  despite 

Of  my  lord  cardinal.     By  the  king's  aid 

I  will  be  minister  of  France  in  spite 

Of  my  lord  cardinal ;  and  then,  what  then  ■? 

The  king  loves  Julie — feeble  prince — false  master — 

{Producing  and  gazing  on  the  parchment.) 
Then,  by  the  aid  of  Bouillon  and  the  Spaniard, 
I  will  dethrone  the  king  ;  and  all — ha !  ha  ! 
All,  in  despite  of  my  lord  cardinal.  [Exit. 


20  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  I. 


SCENE   II. 

A  room  in  the  Palais  Cardinal,  the  walls  hung  with  arras. 
A  large  screen  in  one  corner.  A  table  covered  with  books, 
papers,  <^c.  A  rude  clock  in  a  recess.  Busts,  statues, 
bookcases,  weapons  of  different  periods,  and  banners  sus- 
pended over  Richelieu^s  chair. 

Richelieu. — Joseph. 

RICHELIEU. 

And  so  you  think  this  new  conspiracy 

The  craftiest  trap  yet  laid  for  the  old  fox  ? 

Fox !     Well,  I  like  the  nickname  !     What  did  Plutarch 

Say  of  the  Greek  Lysander  T 

JOSEPH. 

I  forget. 

RICHELIEU. 

That  where  the  lion's  skin  fell  short,  he  eked  it 
Out  with  the  fox's !  A  great  statesman,  Joseph, 
That  same  Lysander ! 

JOSEPH. 

Orleans  heads  the  traitors. 

RICHELIEU. 

A  very  wooden  head  then !    Well  ? 

JOSEPH. 

The  favourite, 
Count  Baradas — 

RICHELIEU. 

A  weed  of  hasty  growth  ; 
First  gentleman  of  the  chamber ;  titles,  lands, 
And  the  king's  ear !  it  cost  me  six  long  winters 
To  mount  as  high,  as  in  six  little  moons 
This  painted  lizard —    But  I  hold  the  ladder, 
And  when  I  shake,  he  falls  !    What  more  ■? 

JOSEPH. 

A  scheme 
To  make  your  orphan-ward  an  instrument 
To  aid  your  foes.     You  placed  her  with  the  queen. 
One  of  the  royal  chamber,  as  a  watch 
I'  th'  enemy's  quarters — 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  21 


RICHELIEU. 

And  the  silly  child 
Visits  me  daily;  calls  me  "  Father  ;"  prays 
Kiud  Heaven  to  bless  me ;  and  for  all  the  rest, 
As  well  have  placed  a  doll  about  the  queen ! 
She  does  not  heed  who  frowns,  who  smiles ;  with  whom 
The  king  confers  in  whispers ;  notes  not  when 
Men  who  last  week  were  foes,  are  found  in  corners 
Mysteriously  affectionate  ;  words  spoken 
Within  closed  doors  she  never  hears;  by  chance 
Taking  the  air  at  keyholes.     Senseless  puppet! 
No  ears,  nor  eyes !  and  yet  she  says  "  She  loves  me !" 
Go  on ! 

JOSEPH. 

Your  ward  has  charm'd  the  king — 

RICHELIEU. 

Out  on  you ! 
Have  I  not,  one  by  one,  from  such  fair  shoots 
Pluck'd  the  insidious  ivy  of  his  love  ] 
And  shall  it  creep  around  my  blossoming  tree, 
Where  innocent  thoughts,  like,  happy  birds,  make  music 
That  spirits  in  Heaven  might  hear  ]     They're  sinful  too, 
Those  passionate  surfeits  of  the  rampant  flesh  ; 
The  church  condemns  them ;  and  to  us,  my  Joseph, 
The  props  and  pillars  of  the  church,  most  hurtful. 
The  king  is  weak ;  whoever  the  king  loves 
Must  rule  the  king  ;  the  lady  loves  another, 
The  other  rules  the  lady ;  thus  we're  balked 
Of  our  own  proper  sway.     The  king  must  have 
No  goddess  but  the  state ;  the  state — that's  Richelieu ! 

JOSEPH. 

This  not  the  worst ;  Louis,  in  all  decorous. 
And  deeming  you  her  least  compliant  guardian. 
Would  veil  his  suit  by  marriage  with  his  minion, 
Your  prosperous  foe,  Count  Baradas ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Ha!  ha! 

I  have  another  bride  for  Baradas. 

JOSEPH. 

You,  my  lord ! 


22  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act 


RICHELIEU. 

Ay,  more  faithful  than  the  love 
Of  fickle  woman :  when  the  head  lies  lowhest, 
Clasping  him  fondest ;  sorrow  never  knew 
So  sure  a  soother,  and  her  bed  is  stainless ! 

JOSEPH  (aside). 
If  of  the  grave  he  speaks,  I  do  not  wonder 
That  priests  are  bachelors ! 

Enter  Franqois. 

FRANCOIS. 

Mademoiselle  de  Mortemar. 

RICHELIEU. 

Most  opportune  ;  admit  her.  {Exit  Franqois. 

In  my  closet 
You'll  find  a  rosary,  Joseph ;  ere  you  tell 
Three  hundred  beads,  I'll  summon  you.     Stay,  Joseph ; 
I  did  omit  an  ave  in  my  matins, 
A  grievous  fault ;  atone  it  for  me,  Joseph ; 
There  is  a  scourge  within ;  I  am  weak,  you  strong ; 
It  were  but  charity  to  take  my  sin 
On  such  broad  shoulders.     Exercise  is  healthful. 

JOSEPH.  • 

I !  guilty  of  such  criminal  presumption 

As  to  mistake  myself  for  you  !    No,  never ! 

Think  it  not !     {Aside)  Troth,  a  pleasant  invitation ! 

[Exit  Joseph. 

Enter  Julie  de  Mortemar. 

RICHELIEU. 

That's  my  sweet  Julie  !  why,  upon  this  face 
Blushes  such  daybreak,  one  might  swear  the  morning 
Were  come  to  visit  Tithon. 

JULIE  {placing  herself  at  his  feet). 

Are  you  gracious  ? 
May  I  say  "  Father  ?" 

RICHELIEU. 

Now  and  ever ! 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CO>fSPIRACY.  23 


JUHE. 

Father ! 
A  sweet  word  to  an  orphan. 

RICHELIEU. 

No ;  not  orphan 
While  Richeheu  lives ;  thy  father  loved  me  well ; 
My  friend,  ere  I  had  flatterers  (now  I'm  great, 
In  other  phrase,  Tm  friendless) ;  he  died  young 
In  years,  not  service,  and  bequeath'd  thee  to  me ; 
And  thou  shalt  have  a  dowry,  girl,  to  buy 
Thy  mate  amid  the  mightiest.     Drooping  ]  sighs  T 
Art  thou  not  happy  at  the  court  ? 

JULIE. 

Not  often, 

RICHELIEU  {aside). 
Can  she  love  Baradas !     Ah !  at  thy  heart 
There's  what  can  smile  and  sigh,  blush  and  grow  pale, 
All  in  a  breath  !     Thou  art  admired,  art  young ; 
Does  not  his  majesty  commend  thy  beauty'? 
Ask  thee  to  sing  to  him  1  and  swear  such  sounds 
Had  smooth'd  the  brows  of  Saul  1 


Our  worthy  king. 


JULIE. 

He's  very  tiresome, 


RICHELIEU. 

Fy ;  kings  are  never  tiresome, 
Save  to  their  ministers.     What  courtly  gallants 
Charm  ladies  most  ?     De  Sourdiac,  Longueville,  or 
The  favourite  Baradas  1 


I  fear  and  shun  him. 


JULIE. 

A  smileless  man ; 


RICHELIEU. 

Yet  he  courts  thee  1 

JULIE. 

Then 
He  is  more  tiresome  than  his  majesty. 


24  RICHELIEU ;  OB,  [act  I. 


RICHELIEU. 

Right,  girl,  shun  Baradas.     Yet.  of  these  flowers 
Of  France,  not  one  in  whose  more  honey'd  breath 
Thy  heart  hears  summer  whisper  1 

Enter  Huguet- 

HUGUET. 

The  Chevalier 
De  Mauprat  waits  below. 

JULIE  {starting  up). 
De  Mauprat! 

RICHELIEU. 

Hem! 
He  has  been  tiresome  too !    Anon.  [Exit  Huguet. 

JULIE. 

What  doth  he  1 
I  mean — I — does  your  eminence — that  is — 
Know  you  Messire  de  Mauprat  1 

RICHELIEU. 

Well !  and  you— - 
Has  he  address'd  you  often  ? 

JULIE. 

Often !    No ; 
Nine  times ;  nay,  ten  ;  the  last  time  by  the  lattice 
Of  the  great  staircase.    {In  a  melancholy  tone)   The  court 
sees  him  rarely. 

RICHELIEU. 

A  bold  and  forward  royster  ? 

JULIE. 

He  ?  nay,  modest, 
Gentle,  and  sad,  methinks. 

RICHELIEU. 

Wears  gold  and  azure  ? 

J^IE. 

No;  sable. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  25 


RICHELIEU. 

So  you  note  his  colours,  Julie  ? 
Shame  on  you,  child,  look  loftier.     By  the  mass, 
I  have  business  with  this  modest  gentleman. 

JULIE. 

You're  angry  with  poor  Julie.     There's  no  cause. 

RICHELIEU. 

No  cause ;  you  hate  my  foes  ? 

JULIE. 

I  do! 

RICHELIEU. 

Hate  Maupraf? 

JULIE. 

Kot  Mauprat.     No,  not  Adrien,  father. 

RICHELIEU. 

Adrien ! 
Familiar !     Go,  child  ;  no,  not  that  way ;  wait 
In  the  tapestry  chamber  ;  I  will  join  you ;  go. 

JULIE. 

His  brows  are  knit ;  I  dare  not  call  him  father ! 
But  I  must  speak.    Your  eminence — 

RICHELIEU  {sternly). 

Well,  girl ! 

JUUE. 

Nay, 
Smile  on  me — one  smile  more ;  there,  now  I'm  happy.  . 
Do  not  rank  Mauprat  with  your  foes ;  he  is  not, 
I  know  he  is  not ;  he  loves  France  too  well. 

RICHELIEU. 

Not  rank  De  Mauprat  with  my  foes  %    So  be  it, 
I'll  blot  him  from  that  Hst. 

JULIE. 

That's  my  own  father. 

[Exit  Julie. 
C 


26  RICHELIEU ;  on,  [act  i. 

RICHELIEU  {ringing  a  small  bell  on  the  table) 4 
Huguet ! 

Enter  Huguet. 
De  Mauprat  struggled  not,  nor  murmur'd  T 

HUGUET. 

No ;  proud  and  passive. 

RICHELIEU. 

Bid  him  enter.     Hold : 
Look  that  he  hide  no  weapon.    Humph,  despair 
Makes  victims  sometimes  victors.    When  he  has  enter'd,- 
Glide  round  unseen ;  place  thyself  yonder  {pointing  tc 

the  screen)  ;  watch  him  ; 
If  he  show  violence  (let  me  see  thy  carbine ; 
So,  a  good  weapon)  ;  if  he  play  the  Hon, 
Why.  the  dog's  death. 

HUGUET. 

I  never  miss  my  mark. 

[Exit  Huguet  ;  Richelieu  seats  himself  at  the  table; 
and  slawly  arranges  the  papers  before  him.  Enter 
De  Mauprat,  preceded  by  Huguet,  loho  then  retires 
behind  the  screen. 

RICHELIEU. 

Approach,  sir.     Can  you  call  to  mind  the  hour. 
Now  three  years  since,  when  in  this  room,  methinks^ 
Your  presence  honour'd  me  ? 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

It  is,  my  lord, 
One  of  my  most — 

RICHELIEU  {dryly). 
Dehghtful  recollections.* 

DE  MAUPRAT  {aside). 

St.  Denis !  doth  he  make  a  jest  of  axe 

*  There  are  many  anecdotes  of  the  irony,  often  so  terrible,  in  which 
Richelieu  indulged.  But  he  had  a  love  for  humour  in  its  more  hear- 
ty and  genial  shape.  He  would  send  for  Boisrobert  "  to  make  him 
laugh,"  and  grave  ministers  and  magnates  wailed  in  the  anteroom, 
while  the  great  cardinal  listened  and  responded  to  the  sallies  of  the 
lively  wit. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  27 

And  headsman  ^ 

RICHELIEU  {sternly). 
I  did  then  accord  you 
A  mercy  ill  requited — you  still  live  \ 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

To  meet  death  face  to  face  at  last.* 

[RICHELIEU. 

Your  words 
Are  bold. 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

My  deeds  have  not  belied  them. 

RICHELIEU. 

Deeds ! 
Oh!  miserable  delusion  of  man's  pride ! 
Deeds !  cities  sack'd,  fields  ravaged,  hearths  profaned, 
Men  butcher'd.     In  your  hour  of  doom  behold 
The  deeds  you  boast  of!     From  rank  showers  of  blood, 
And  the  red  light  of  blazing  roofs,  you  build 
The  rainbow  glory,  and  to  shuddering  conscience 
Cry,  Lo,  the  bridge  to  Heaven ! 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

If  war  be  sinful, 
Your  hand  the  gauntlet  cast. 

RICHELIEU. 

It  was  so,  sir. 
Note  the  distinction :  I  weigh'd  well  the  cause 
Which  made  the  standard  holy ;  raised  the  war 
But  to  secure  the  peace.     France  bled,  I  groan'd; 
But  look'd  beyond,  and,  in  the  vista,  saw 
France  saved,  and  I  exulted.     You — but  you 
Were  but  the  tool  of  slaughter,  knowing  naught. 
Foreseeing  naught,  naught  hoping,  naught  lamenting, 
And  for  naught  fit,  save  cutting  throats  for  hire. 
Deeds,  marry,  deeds ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

If  you  would  deign  to  speak 
Thus  to  your  armies  ere  they  march  to  battle, 

t  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  representation, 


28  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  1. 

Perchance  your  eminence  might  have  the  pain 
Of  the  throat-cutting  to  yourself. 

RICHELIEU  {aside). 

He  lias  wit, 
This  Mauprat.     {Aloud)  Let  it  pass  ;  there  is  against 

you 
What  you  can  less  excuse.     Messire  de  Mauprat,] 
Doom'd  to  sure  death,  how  hast  thou  since  consumed 
The  time  allotted  thee  for  serious  thought 
And  solemn  penitence  1 

DE  MAUPRAT  {embarrossed). 

The  time,  my  lord  1 

RICHELIEU. 

Is  not  the  question  plain  ^     I'll  answer  for  thee. 

Thou  hast  sought  nor  priest  nor  shrine ;  no  sackcloth 

chafed 
Thy  delicate  flesh.     The  rosary  and  the  death's-head 
Have  not,  with  pious  meditation,  purged 
Earth  from  the  carnal  gaze.     What  thou  hast  not  done, 
Brief  told  ;  what  done,  a  volume  !     Wild  debauch. 
Turbulent  riot :  for  the  morn  the  dicebox. 
Noon  claimed  the  duel,  and  the  night  the  wassail ; 
These,  your  most  holy,  pure  preparatives 
For  death  and  judgment.    Do  1  wrong  you,  sir  1 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

I  was  not  always  thus ;  if  changed  my  nature. 
Blame  that  which  changed  my  fate.     Alas,  my  lord, 
[There  is  a  brotherhood  which  calm-eyed  Reason* 
Can  wot  not  of  between  despair  and  mirth. 
My  birthplace  mid  the  vines  of  sunny  Provence, 
Perchance  the  stream  that  sparkles  in  my  veins 
Came  from  that  wine  of  passionate  life  which  erst 
Glowed  in  the  wild  heart  of  the  Troubadour : 
And  danger,  which  makes  steadier  courage  wary, 
But  fevers  me  with  an  insane  delight ; 
As  one  of  old  who  on  the  mountain-crags 
Caught  madness  from  a  IMtcnad's  haunting  eyes. 
Were  you,  my  lord-— whose  path  imperial  power, 
And  the  grave  cares  of  reverent  wisdom  guard 
From  all  that  tempts  to  folly  meaner  men—] 

♦  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  representation. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  29 

Were  you  accursed  with  that  which  you  inflicted, 
By  bed  and  board  dogg'd  by  one  ghastly  spectre, 
The  while  within  you  youth  beat  high,  and  hfe 
Grew  lovelier  from  the  neighbouring  frown  of  death, 
The  heart  no  bud,  nor  fruit,  save  in  those  seeds 
Most  worthless,  which  spring  up,  bloom,  bear,  and  wither 
In  the  same  liour.     Were  this  your  fate,  perchance 
You  would  have  err'd  like  rae  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

I  might,  like  you, 
Have  been  a  brawler  and  a  reveller ;  not, 
Like  you,  a  trickster  and  a  thief. 

DE  MAUPBAT  {advancing  threateningly). 

^  Lord  cardinal ! 

Unsay  those  words ! 

{Huguet  deliberately  raises  the  carbine.) 

RICHELIEU  (waving  his  hand). 

Not  quite  so  quick,  friend  Huguet ; 
Messire  de  Mauprat  is  a  patient  man,  . 
And  he  can  wait ! 

You  have  outrun  your  fortune  ; 
I  blame  you  not,  that  you  would  be  a  beggar ; 
Each  to  his  taste !     But  I  do  charge  you,  sir. 
That,  being  beggar'd,  you  would  coin  false  moneys 
Out  of  that  crucible  called  debt.     To  live 
On  means  not  yours ;  be  brave  in  silks  and  laces. 
Gallant  in  steeds,  splendid  in  banquets  ;  all 
Not  yours,  ungiven,  uninhcrited,  unpaid  for ; 
This  is  to  be  a  trickster,  and  to  filch 
Men's  art  and  labour,  which  to  them  is  wealth, 
Life,  daily  bread  ;  quitting  all  scores  with,  "  Friend, 
You're  troublesome  !"     Why  this,  forgive  me, 
Is  what,  when  done  with  a  less  dainty  grace, 
Plain  folks  call   "  Theft .'"     You  owe  eight   thousand 

pistoles. 
Minus  one  crown,  two  liards  I 

DE  MAUPRAT  {aside). 

The  old  conjuror ! 
'Sdeath,  he'll  inform  me  next  how  many  cups 
I  drank  at  dinner  ! 

C2 


30  RICHELIEU  ;    OB,  [aCT 


RICHELIEU. 

This  is  scandalous, 
Shaming  your  birth  and  blood.    I  tell  you,  sir, 
That  you  must  pay  your  debts. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

With  all  my  heart, 
My  lord.     Where  shall  I  borrow,  then,  the  money  ? 

RICHELIEU  {aside  and  laughing). 
A  humorous  daredevil !     The  very  man 
To  suit  my  purpose;  ready,  frank,  and  bold! 

{Rising,  and  earnestly.) 
Adrien  de  Mauprat,  men  have  called  me  cruel ; 
I  am  not ;  I  am  just  !    I  found  France  rent  asunder  ; 
The  rich  men  despots,  and  the  poor  banditti ; 
Sloth  in  the  mart,  and  schism  within  the  temple ; 
Brawls  festering  to  rebellion,  and  weak  laws 
Rotting  away  with  rust  in  antique  sheaths. 
I  have  recreated  France ;  and,  from  the  ashes 
Of  the  old  feudal  and  decrepit  carcass. 
Civilization  on  her  luminous  wings 
Soars,  phognix-like,  to  Jove !     What  was  my  art^ 
Genius,  some  say  ;  some,  fortune  ;  witchcraft  some. 
Not  so  ;  my  art  was  Justice  !     Force  and  fraud 
Misname  it  cruelty  ;  you  shall  confute  them  ! 
My  champion  you  !     You  met  me  as  your  foe. 
Depart  my  friend ;   you  shall  not  die.     France  needs 

you. 
You  shall  wipe  off  all  stains ;  be  rich,  be  honour'd, 
Be  great. 

{De  Mauprat  falls  on  his  knee ;  Richelieu  raises  him. 
I  ask,  sir,  in  return,  this  hand. 
To  gift  it  with  a  bride,  whose  dower  shall  match, 
Yet  not  exceed,  her  beauty. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

I,  my  lord  {hesitating), 
I  have  no  wish  to  marry. 

RICHELIEU. 

Surely,  sir, 
To  die  were  worse. 


SCENE  II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  31 


DE    MAUPRAT. 

Scarcely ;  the  poorest  coward 
Must  die  ;  but  knowingly  to  march  to  marriage — 
My  lord,  it  asks  the  courage  of  a  lion ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Traitor,  thou  triflest  with  me  !     I  know  all! 
Thou  hast  dared  to  love  my  ward,  my  charge. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

As  rivers 
May  love  the  sunlight,  basking  in  the  beams, 
And  hurrying  on ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Thou  hast  told  her  of  thy  love  T 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

My  lord,  if  1  had  dared  to  love  a  maid, 

Lowliest  in  France,  I  would  not  so  have  wrong'd  her 

As  bid  her  link  rich  life  and  virgin  hope 

With  one,  the  deathman's  gripe  might  from  her  side 

Pluck  at  the  nuptial  altar. 

RICHELIEU. 

I  believe  thee ; 
Yet  since  she  knows  not  of  thy  love,  renounce  her ; 
Take  life  and  fortune  with  another !     Silent  ? 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Your  fate  has  been  one  triumph.     You  know  not 
How  bless'd  a  thing  it  was  in  my  dark  hour 
To  nurse  the  one  sweet  thought  you  bid  me  banish. 
Love  hath  no  need  of  words  ;  nor  less  within 
That  hohest  temple,  the  heaven-builded  soul. 
Breathes  the  recorded  vow.     Base  knight,  false  lover 
Were  he,  who  barter'd  all  that  brighten'd  grief, 
Or  sanctified  despair,  for  life  and  gold. 
Revoke  your  mercy  ;  I  prefer  the  fate 
I  look'd  for ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Huguet !  to  the  tapestry  chamber 
Conduct  your  prisoner. 


32  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  I. 


(To  Mauprat.) 
You  will  there  behold 
The  executioner :  your  doom  be  private  ; 
And  Heaven  have  mercy  on  you ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

When  I'm  dead, 
Tell  her  I  loved  her. 

RICHELIEU. 

Keep  such  follies,  sir, 
For  fitter  ears ;  go. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Does  he  mock  me  ] 

{Exeunt  de  Mauprat,  Huguet. 

RICHELIEU. 

Joseph, 


Come  forth. 


Enter  Joseph. 
Methinks  your  cheek  hath  lost  its  rubies  ; 
I  fear  you  have  been  too  lavish  of  the  flesh; 
The  scourge  is  heavy. 

JOSEPH. 

Pray  you,  change  the  subject. 

RICHELIEU. 

You  good  men  are  so  modest !     Well,  to  business  ! 
Go  instantly — deeds — notaries  !  bid  my  stewards 
Arrange  my  house  by  the  Luxembourg ;  my  house 
No  more  !  a  bridal  present  to  my  ward, 
Who  weds  to-morrow. 

JOSEPH. 

Weds,  with  whom  ? 

RICHELIEU. 

De  Mauprat 

JOSEPH, 

Penniless  husband !  * 

RICHELIEU. 

Bah !  the  mate  for  beauty 


SCENE  II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  33 

Should  be  a  man,  and  not  a  money-chest ! 

When  her  brave  sire  lay  on  his  bed  of  death, 

I  vow'd  to  be  a  father  to  his  Julie  : 

And  so  he  died,  the  smile  upon  his  lips  ! 

And  when  I  spared  the  life  of  her  young  lover, 

Methought  I  saw  that  smile  again !     Who  else, 

Look  you,  in  all  the  court — who  else  so  well, 

Brave,  or  supplant  the  favourite  ;  balk  the  king, 

BafBe  their  schemes  ?     I  have  tried  him ;  he  has  honour 

And  courage ;  qualities  that  eagle-plume 

Men's  souls,  and  fit  them  for  the  fiercest  sun, 

Which  ever  melted  the  weak  waxen  minds 

That  flutter  in  the  beams  of  gaudy  power ! 

Besides,  he  has  taste,  this  Mauprat  :  when  my  play 

Was  acted  to  dull  tiers  of  lifeless  gapers,* 

Who  had  no  soul  for  poetry,  I  saw  him 

Applaud  in  the  proper  places :  trust  me,  Joseph, 

He  is  a  man  of  an  uncommon  promise ! 

JOSEPH. 

And  yet  your  foe. 

RICHELIEU. 

Have  I  not  foes  enow  1 
Great  men  gain  doubly  when  they  make  foes  friends. 
Remember  ray  grand  maxims :  first  employ 
All  methods  to  conciliate. f 

*  The  Abbe  Arnaud  tells  us  that  the  queen  was  a  little  avenged 
on  the  cardinal  by  the  ill  success  of  the  tragi-comedy  of  Mirame, 
more  than  suspected  to  be  his  own,  though  presented  to  the  world 
under  the  foster  name  of  Desmarets.  Its  representation  (says  Pelis- 
son)  cost  him  300,000  crowns.  He  was  so  transported  out  of  himself 
by  the  performance,  that  at  one  time  he  thrust  his  person  half  out  of 
his  box  to  show  himself  to  the  assembly ;  at  another  time  he  imposed 
silence  on  the  audience  that  they  might  not  lose  "  des  endroits  encore 
plus  beaux .'"  He  said  afterward  to  Desmarets,  "  Eh  bien,  les  Fran- 
<;ais  n'auronl  done  jamais  de  goiit.  lis  n'ont  pas  ete  charmes  de  Mi- 
rame !"  Arnaud  says  pithily,  "  On  ne  pouvoit  alors  avoir  d'autre  sat- 
isfaction des  offenses  d'un  homme  qui  etoit  maitre  de  tout  et  redout- 
able  a  tout  le  monde."  Nevertheless,  his  style  in  prose,  though  not 
devoid  of  the  pedantic  affectations  of  the  time,  often  rises  into  very 
noble  eloquence. 

+  "  Vialart  remarque  une  chose  qui  pent  expliquer  la  conduite  de 
Richelieu  en  d'autres  circonstances  :  c'est  que  les  seigneurs  a.  qui 
leur  naissanoe  ou  leur  merite  pouvoit  permettre  des  pretensions,  il 
avoit  pour  syst^me,  de  leur  accorder  au-dela,  m^me  de  leurs  droits  et 
de  leurs  esperances,  mais,  aussi,  une  fois  combles  ;  si,  au  lieu  de  re- 
connoitre ses  services  its  se  levoient  contre  lui,  il  les  traitoit  sans 


34  RICHELIEU  ;   OR,  [act    I. 


JOSEPH. 

Failing  these  ? 
RICHELIEU  {fiercely). 

All  means  to  crush :  as  with  the  opening  iind 
The  clinching  of  this  little  hand,  1  will 
Crush  the  small  venom  of  these  stinging  courtiers. 
So,  so,  we've  baffled  Baradas.  * 

JOSEPH. 

And  when 
Check  the  conspiracy  ? 

RICHELIEU. 

Check,  check  ?     Full  way  to  it. 
Let  it  bud,  ripen,  flaunt  i'  the  day,  and  burst 
To  fruit,  the  Dead  Sea's  fruit  of  ashes ;  ashes 
Which  1  will  scatter  to  the  winds. 

Go,  Joseph : 
When  you  return,  I  have  a  feast  for  you  ; 
The  last  great  act  of  my  great  play  :  the  verses, 
Methinks,  are  fine,  ah,  very  fine.     You  write 
Verses  !*  (aside)  such  verses !    You  have  wit,  discern- 
ment. 

JOSEPH  (aside). 

Worse  than  the  scourge !     Strange  that  so  great  a  states^ 

man 
Should  be  so  bad  a  poet. 

RICHELIEU. 

What  dost  say  1 

JOSEPH. 

That  it  is  strange  so  great  a  statesman  should 
Be  so  sublime  a  poet, 

mis^ricorde." — Anqueiil.  See  also  the  Political  Testament,  and  the 
M^moires  de  Cardinal  Richelieu,  in  Pelitot's  collection. 

*  •'  Tantotfanatique— tantiJt  fourbe — fonder  les  religieuses  de  Cal- 
vaire— /air  des  vers."  Thus  speaks  Voltaire  of  Father  Joseph.  His 
talents  and  influence  with  Richelieu,  grossly  exaggerated  in  his  own 
day,  are  now  rightly  estimated. 

"  C'etoit  en  eil'et  un  homme  indefatigable  ;  portant  dans  les  entre- 
prises,  I'activito,  la  souplesse,  Topini^trete  propresa  les  faire  r^ussir." 
— A-iiquiiil.  Ho  wrote  a  Latin  poem,  called  "La  Turciade,"  in 
which  he  sought  to  excite  the  kingdoms  of  Christendom  against  the 
Turks.    But  the  inspiration  of  Tyrtaeus  was  denied  to  Father  Joseph. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  35 


RICHELIEU. 

Ah,  you  rogue ; 
Laws  die,  books  never.     Of  my  ministry 
I  am  not  vain  !  but  of  my  muse,  I  own  it. 
Come,  you  shall  hear  the  verses  now  {takes  up  a  MS.). 

JOSEPH. 

My  lord, 
The  deeds,  the  notaries ! 

RICHELIEU. 

True,  I  pity  you ; 
But  business  first,  then  pleasure.  [Exit  Joseph. 

RICHELIEU  {seats  himself  and  reading). 

Ah,  sublime ! 

Enter  De  Mauprat  and  Julie. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Oh,  speak,  ray  lord,  I  dare  not  think  you  mock  me, 
And  yet — 

RICHELIEU. 

Hush,  hush.    This  line  must  be  considered ! 

JULIE. 

Are  we  not  both  your  children  ? 

RICHELIEU. 

What  a  couplet ! 
How  now !    Oh  !  sir,  you  live ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Why,  no,  methinks 
Elysium  is  not  life  ! 

JULIE. 

He  smiles !  you  smile, 
My  father !    From  my  heart  for  ever,  now, 
I'll  blot  the  name  of  orphan  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Rise,  my  children, 
For  ye  are  mine — mine  both ;  and  in  your  sweet 


36  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  I. 

And  young  delight,  your  love  (life's  firstborn  glory), 
My  own  lost  youth  breathes  musical .' 


DE    MAUPRAT. 


I'll  seek 
Temple  and  priest  henceforward,  were  it  but 
To  learn  Heaven's  choicest  blessings. 

RICHELIEU. 

Thou  shalt  seek 
Temple  and  priest  right  soon ;  the  morrow's  sun 
Shall  see  across  those  barren  thresholds  pass 
The  fairest  bride  in  Paris.     Go,  my  children  ; 
Even  /  loved  once  !     Be  lovers  while  ye  may ! 
How  is  it  with  you,  sir  ]     You  bear  it  bravely  : 
You  know,  it  asks  the  courage  of  a  lion. 

[Exeunt  Julie  and  De  Maupraf^ 

RICHELIEU. 

Oh  !  godlike  power  !     Wo,  rapture,  penury,  wealth, 
Marriage  and  death,  for  one  infirm  old  man 
Through  a  great  empire  to  dispense — withhold — 
As  the  will  whispers !     And  shall  things,  like  motes 
That  live  in  my  dayhght ;  lackeys  of  court  wages. 
Dwarf 'd  starvelings,  mannikins,  upon  whose  shoulders 
The  burden  of  a  province  were  a  load 
More  heavy  than  the  globe  on  Atlas,  cast 
Lots  for  my  robes  and  sceptre  ]     France  !  T  love  thee ! 
All  earth  shall  never  pluck  thee  from  my  heart ! 
My  mistress  France,  my  wedded  wife,  sweet  France, 
Who  shall  proclaim  divorce  for  thee  and  me ! 

[£xit  Richelieu. 


ACT    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  37 


ACT  11, 

Sbecontr  3DaS' 

SCENE  I. 

A  splendid  apartment  in  Mauprafs  new  house.  Casements 
opening  to  the  gardens,  beyond  which  the  domes  of  the 
Luxembourg  Palace. 

Enter  Baradas. 

BARADAS. 

Mauprat's  new  home  :  too  splendid  for  a  soldier ! 

But  o'er  his  floors — the  while  I  stalk — methinks 

My  shadow  spreads  gigantic  to  the  gloom 

The  old  rude  towers  of  the  Bastile  cast  far 

Along  the  smoothness  of  the  jocund  day. 

Well,  thou  hast  'scaped  the  fierce  caprice  of  Richelieu; 

But  art  thou  farther  from  the  headsman,  fooU 

Thy  secret  I  have  whisper'd  to  the  king ; 

Thy  marriage  makes  the  king  thy  foe.     Thou  stand'st   «> 

On  the  abyss  ;  and  in  the  pool  below 

I  see  a  ghastly,  headless  phantom  mirror'd ; 

Thy  likeness  ere  the  marriage  moon  hath  waned. 

Meanwhile — meanwhile — ha !  ha  I  if  thou  art  wedded, 

Thou  art  not  wived. 

Enter  Mauprat  {splendidly  dressed). 

MAUPRAT. 

Was  ever  fate  like  mine  % 
So  bless'd  and  yet  so  wretched ! 

BARADAS. 

Joy,  De  Mauprat ! 
Why,  what  a  brow,  man,  for  your  wedding-day  T 

D-E    MAUPRAT. 

Jest  not !    Distraction ! 

BARADAS. 

What,  your  wife  a  shrew 
Already  ■?    Courage,  man — the  common  lot ! 

D 


38  RICIIETLIEU  ;   OR,  [act   II. 


DE    MAUPRAT. 

Oh !  that  she  were  less  lovely  or  less  loved ! 

BARADAS. 

Riddles  again ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

You  know  what  chanced  between 
The  cardinal  and  myself. 

BARADAS. 

This  morning  brought 
Your  letter  :  faith,  a  strange  account !     1  laugh'd 
And  wept  at  once  for  gladness. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

We  were  wed 
At  noon;  the  rite  performed,  came  hither;  scarce 
Arrived,  when — 

BARADAS. 

Wein 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Wide  flew  the  doors,  and  lo,- 
Messire  de  Beringhen,  and  this  epistle  I 

BARADAS. 

'Tis  the  king's  hand  !  the  royal  seal ! 

DE    WAUPRAT. 

Read — read — 
RARADAS  {reading). 

"  Whereas  Adrien  de  Mauprat,  colonel  and  chevalier 
in  our  armies,  being  already  guilty  of  high  treason  by 
the  seizure  of  our  town  of  Faviaux,  has  presumed,  with- 
out our  knowledge,  consent,  or  sanction,  to  connect 
himself  by  marriage  with  Julie  de  Morteniar,  a  M^ealthy 
orphan  attached  to  the  person  of  her  majesty,  without 
our  knowledge  or  consent — We  do  hereby  proclaim  said 
marriage  contrary  to  law.  On  penalty  of  death,  Adrien 
de  Mauprat  will  not  communicate  with  the  said  .Julie 
de  Morteniar  by  word  or  letter,  save  in  the  presence  of 
our  faithful  servant  the  Sieur  de  Beringhen,  and  then 
w^ith  such  respect  and  decorum  as  are  due  to  a  demoi- 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  39 

selle  attached  to  the  court  of  France,  until  such  time  as 
it  may  suit  our  royal  pleasure  to  confer  with  the  Holy 
Church  on  the  formal  annulment  of  the  marriage,  and 
with  our  council  on  the  punishment  to  be  awarded  to 
Messire  de  Mauprat,  who  is  cautioned  for  his  own  sake 
to  preserve  silence  as  to  our  injunction,  more  especial- 
ly to  Mademoiselle  de  Mortemar. 

"  Given  under  our  hand  and  seal  at  the  Louvre. 

"  LOUIS." 

BARADAS  {reluming  the  letter). 

Amazement !    Did  not  Richelieu  say,  the  king 
Knew  not  your  crime  1 

DE    MAUPBAT. 

He  said  so. 

BARADAS. 

Poor  De  Mauprat ! 
See  you  the  snare,  the  vengeance  worse  than  death. 
Of  which  you  are  the  victim  1 

DE   MAUPRAT, 

Ha! 

BARADAS  (aside). 

It  works ! 

(Julie  and  De  Beringhen  in  the  gardens.) 

You  have  not  sought  the  cardinal  yet  to — 

DE   MAUPRAT. 

No! 
Scarce  yet  my  sense  awaken'd  from  the  shock ; 
Now  I  will  seek  him. 

BARADAS. 

Hold,  beware  !    Stir  not 
Till  we  confer  again. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Speak  out,  man ! 

BARADAS, 

Hush ! 
Your  wife !    De  Beringhen !    Be  on  your  guard ; 
Obey  the  royal  orders  to  the  letter. 


40  RICHELIEU ;  or,  [act  ii. 

I'll  look  around  your  palace.    By  my  troth, 
A  princely  mansion ! 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

Stay— 

BARADAS. 

So  new  a  bridegroom 
Can  want  no  visiters.     Your  servant,  madam ! 
Oh,  happy  pair  !   oh,  charming  picture  ! 

[Exit  through  a  side-door. 

JULIE. 

Adrien, 
You  left  us  suddenly.    Are  you  not  well  1 

DE   MAUPRAT. 

Oh,  very  well ;  that  is,  extremely  ill ! 

JULIE. 

Ill,  Adrien  1  {taking  his  hand). 

DE   MAUPRAT. 

Not  when  I  see  thee. 

{He  is  about  to  lift  her  hand  to  his  lips  when  De  Berin- 
ghen  coughs  and  pulls  his  mantle.  Mauprat  drops 
the  hand  and  walks  away.) 

JULIE. 

Alas ! 
Should  he  not  love  me  •? 

DE   BERINGHEN    {aside). 

Have  a  care  ;  I  must 
Report  each  word,  each  gesture  to  his  majesty. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Sir,  if  you  were  not  in  his  majesty's  service, 
You'd  be  the  most  officious,  impudent, 
Damn'd  busybody  ever  interfering 
In  a  man's  family  affairs. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

But  as 
I  do  belong,  sir,  to  his  majesty— 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  41 


DE    MAUPRAT. 

You're  lucky  !     Still,  were  we  a  story  higher, 
'Twere  prudent  not  to  go  too  near  the  window. 

JULIE. 

Adrien,  what  have  I  done  1     Say,  am  I  changed 
Since  yesterday  I     Or  was  it  but  for  wealth, 
Ambition,  life — that — that — you  swore  you  loved  me  T 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

I  shall  go  mad !     I  do,  indeed  I  do-^ 

DE  BERINGHEN  (aside). 

Not  love  her  !  that  were  highly  disrespectful. 

JULIE. 

You  do — what,  Adrien  1 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Oh !  I  do,  indeed — 
I  do  think  that  this  weather  is  delightful ! 
A  charming  day  !  the  sky  is  so  serene ! 
And    what   a   prospect !     {to  De   Beringhen)  Oh !   you 
popinjay! 

JULIE. 

He  jests  at  me  !  he  mocks  me  !  yet  I  love  him, 
And  every  look  becomes  the  lips  we  love  I 
Perhaps  I  am  too  grave  T     You  laugh  at  Juhe  ; 
If  laughter  please  you,  welcome  be  the, music! 
Only  say,  Adrien,  that  you  love  me. 

DE  MAUPRAT  (Jiisstng  her  hand). 

Ay; 
With  my  whole  heart  I  love  you ! 

Now,  sir,  go, 
And  tell  that  to  his  majesty  !     Who  ever 
Heard  of  its  being  a  state  offence  to  kiss 
The  hand  of  one's  own  wife  1 

JULIE. 

He  says  he  loves  me, 
And  starts  away,  as  if  to  say  "  I  love  you" 
Meant  something  very  dreadful.     Come,  sit  by  me  ; 
I  place  your  chair !  fy  on  your  gallantry ! 

D2 


42  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  II. 


( They  sit  down ;  as  he  pushes  his  chair  back,  she  draws 

he  IS  nearer.) 

JULIE. 

Why  must  this  strange  Messire  de  Beringhen 
Be  always  here  1     He  never  takes  a  hint. 
Do  you  not  wish  him  gone  1 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Upon  my  soul 
I  do,  my  Julie !     Send  him  for  your  bouquet, 
Your  glove,  your  anything. 

JULIE. 

Messire  de  Beringhen, 
I  dropp'd  my  glove  in  the  gardens  by  the  fountain, 
Or  the  alcove,  or — stay — no,  by  the  statue 
Of  Cupid  ;  may  I  ask  you  to — 

DE  BERINGHEN. 

To  send  for  it  1 
Certainly  (ringing  a  bell  on  the   table).  Andre,  Pierre 

(your  rascals,  how 
Do  ye  call  them  1) 

Enter  servants. 
Ah — madame  has  dropp'd  her  glove 
In  the  gardens,  by  the  fountain,  or  the  alcove ; 
Or — stay— no,  by  the  statue — eh !  of  Cupid. 
Bring  it. 

DE   MAUPRAT. 

Did  ever  now  one  pair  of  shoulders 
Carry  such  wagon-loads  of  impudence 
Into  a  gentleman's  drawing-room  ? 

Dear  Julie, 
I'm  busy — letters — visiters — the  devil ! 
I  do  beseech  you  leave  me ;  I  say,  leave  me. 

JULIE  {weeping). 
You  are  unkind. 

[Exit.     {As  she  goes  out,  Mauprat  drops  on  one  knee 
and  hisses  the  hem  of  her  mantle,  unseen  by  her.) 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Ten  million  of  apologies — 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  48 


DE  MAUPRAT. 

I'll  not  take  one  of  them.     I  have,  as  yet, 
Withstood  all  things ;  my  heart,  my  love,  my  rights. 
But  Julie's  tears !     When  is  this  farce  to  end  ^ 

DE   BERINGHEN. 

Oh !  when  you  please.     His  majesty  requests  me, 
As  soon  as  you  infringe  his  gracious  orders, 
To  introduce  you  to  the  governor 
Of  the  Bastile.     I  should  have  had  that  honour 
Before,  but,  gad,  my  foible  is  good  nature  ; 
One  can't  be  hard  upon  a  friend's  infirmities. 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

I  know  the  king  can  send  me  to  the  scaffold ; 
Dark  prospect !  but  I'm  used  to  it ;  and  if 
The  church  and  council,  by  this  hour  to-morrow, 
One  way  or  other  settle  not  the  matter, 
I  will— 

DE  BERINGHEN. 

What,  my  dear  sir  1 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

Show  you  the  door, 
My  dear,  dear  sir ;  talk  as  I  please,  with  whom 
I  please,  in  my  own  house,  dear  sir,  until 
His  majesty  shall  condescend  to  find 
A  stouter  gentleman  than  you,  dear  sir, 
To  take  me  out ;  and  now  you  understand  me, 
My  dear,  most  dear,  oh,  damnably  dear  sir! 

DE  BERINGHEN. 

What,  almost  in  a  passion !  you  will  cool 
Upon  reflection.     Well,  since  madame's  absent, 
I'll  take  a  small  refreshment.     Now,  don't  stir ; 
Be  careful ;  how's  your  Burgundy  ■?    I'll  taste  it ; 
Finish  it  all  before  I  leave  you.     Nay, 
No  form ;  you  see  I  make  myself  at  home. 

{Eocit  De  Beringhen. 

DE  MAUPRAT  {going  to  the  door  through  which  Baradas  had 

passed), 

Baradas!  count! 


44  RICHELIEU :  OR,  [act  II. 


Enter  Baradas. 
You  spoke  of  snares,  of  vengeance 
Sharper  than  death ;  be  plainer. 

BARADAS. 

What  so  clear  1 
Richelieu  has  but  two  passions — 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

Richeheu ! 

BARADAS. 

Yes! 
Ambiton  and  revenge ;  in  you  both  blended. 
First  for  ambition  :  Julie  is  his  ward ; 
Innocent,  docile,  pliant  to  his  will, 
He  placed  her  at  the  court,  foresaw  the  rest : 
The  king  loves  Julie ! 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

Merciful  Heavpn !    The  king ! 

BARADAS. 

Such  Cupids  lend  new  plumes  to  Richelieu's  wings : 

But  the  court  etiquette  must  give  such  Cupids 

The  veil  of  Hymen  (Hymen  but  in  name). 

He  look'd  abroad,  found  you  his  foe  :  thus  served 

Ambition  by  the  grandeur  of  his  ward. 

And  vengeance  by  dishonour  to  his  foe ! 

PE  MAUPRAT. 

Prove  this. 

BARADAS. 

You  have  the  proof,  the  royal  letter : 
Your  strange  exemption  from  the  general  pardon, 
Known  but  to  me  and  Richelieu ;  can  you  doubt 
Your  friend  to  acquit  your  foe  ■?     The  truth  is  glaring; 
Richelieu  alone  could  tell  the  princely  lover 
The  tale  which  sells  your  Ufe,  or  buys  your  honour! 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

I  see  it  all !    Mock  pardon,  hurried  nuptials, 
False  bounty !  all !  the  serpent  of  that  srnile ! 
Oh  !  it  stings  home  I 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  4* 


BARADAS. 

You  yet  shall  crush  his  malice ; 
Our  plans  are  sure :  Orleans  is  at  our  head  ; 
We  meet  to-nigiit ;  join  us,  and  with  us  triumph. 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

To-night?    Oh  Heaven!  my  marriage  night !    Revenge! 

BARADAS. 

What  class  of  men,  whose  white  lips  do  not  curse* 

[The  grim,  insatiate,  universal  tyrant  ? 

We,  noble-born,  where  are  our  antique  rights, 

Our  feudal  seignories,  out  castled  strength. 

That  did  divide  us  from  the  base  plebeians. 

And  made  our  swords  our  law  f  where  are  they  1  trod 

To  dust ;  and  o'er  the  graves  of  our  dead  power 

Scaflfolds  are  monuments  ;  the  kingly  house 

Shorn  of  its  beams,  the  royal  sun  of  France 

'Clipsed  by  this  blood-red  comet.     Where  we  turn, 

Nothing  but  Richelieu  !     Armies,  church,  state,  laws, 

But  mirrors  that  do  multiply  his  beams. 

He  sees  all,  acts  all — Argus  and  Briaraeus — 

Spy  at  our  boards,  and  deathsman  at  our  hearths, 

Under  the  venom  of  one  laidley  nightshade, 

Wither  the  lilies  of  all  France. 

DE  MAUPRAT  {impatiently). 
But  Julie — 

BARADAS  {unheeding  him). 

As  yet  the  fiend  that  serves  hath  saved  his  power 
From  every  snare  ;  and  in  the  epitaphs 
Of  many  victims  dwells  a  warning  moral 
That  preaches  caution.     Were  I  not  assured 
That  what  before  was  hope  is  ripen'd  now 
Into  most  certain  safety,  trust  me,  Mauprat, 
I  still  could  hush  my  hate  and  mark  thy  wrongs, 
And  say  "  Be  patient !"    Now  the  king  himself 
Smiles  kindly  when  I  tell  him  that  his  peers 
Will  rid  him  of  his  priest.     You  knit  your  brows, 
Noble  impatience  !     Pass  we  to  our  scheme  !] 
'Tis  Richelieu's  wont,  each  morn,  within  liis  chapel 
(Hypocrite  worship  ended),  to  dispense 

*  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  represeulatio*. 


46  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  II. 

Alms  to  the  mendicant  friars ;  in  that  guise 
A  band  (yourself  the  leader)  sliall  surround 
And  seize  the  despot. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

But  the  king  1  but  Juhe  ? 

EARADAS. 

The  king,  infirm  in  health,  in  mind  more  feeble, 

Is  but  the  plaything  of  a  minister's  will. 

Were  Richelieu  dead,  his  power  were  mine  ;  and  Louis 

Soon  should  forget  his  passion  and  your  crime. 

But  whither  now  1 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

I  know  not ;  I  scarce  hear  thee ; 
A  little  while  for  thought :  anon  I'll  join  thee; 
But  now,  all  air  seems  tainted,  and  I  loathe 
The  face  of  man  ! 

[Eocit  De  Mauprat  through  the  gardens. 

BARADAS. 

Start  from  the  chase,  my  prey, 
But  as  thou  speed'st  the  hell-hounds  of  revenge 
Pant  in  thy  track  and  dog  thee  down. 

Enter  De  Beringhen,  his  mouth  full,  a  napkin  in  his  hand. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Chevalier, 
Your  cook's  a  miracle  ;  what,  my  host  gone  1 
Faith,  count,  my  office  is  a  post  of  danger  ; 
A  fiery  fellow,  Mauprat !  touch  and  go, 
Match  and  saltpetre,  pr — r — r— r ! 

BARADAS. 

You 

Will  be  released  ere  long.     The  king  resolves 
To  call  the  bride  to  court  this  day. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Poor  Mauprat ! 
Yet,  since  ijou  love  the  lady,  why  so  careless 
Of  the  king's  suit  ? 

BARADAS. 

Because  the  lady's  virtuous, 
And  the  king  timid.     Ere  he  win  the  suit 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  47 

He'll  lose  ihe  crown,  the  bride  will  be  a  widow. 
And  I — the  Richelieu  of  the  Regent  Orleans. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

is  Louis  still  so  chafed  against  the  fox 

For  snatching  yon  fair  dainty  from  the  lion  1 

BARADAS.  • 

So  chafed,  that  Richelieu  totters.     Yes,  the  king 
Is  half  a  conspirator  against  the  cardinal. 
Enough  of  this.     IVe  found  the  man  we  wanted  ; 
The  man  to  head  the  hands  that  murder  Richelieu ; 
The  man,  whose  name  the  synonyme  for  daring. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

He  must  mean  me  !     No,  count,  I  am,  I  own, 
A  valiant  dog ;  but  still — 

BARADAS. 

Whom  can  I  mean 
But  Mauprat  ?     Mark  ;  to-night  we  meet  at  Marion's  , 
There  shall  we  sign :  thence  send  this  scroll  {showing  it) 

to  Bouillon. 
You're  in  that  secret  {affectionately),  one  of  our  new 

council. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

But  to  admit  the  Spaniard — France's  foe — 
Into  the  heart  of  France,  dethrone  the  king;     . 
It  looks  like  treason,  and  I  smell  the  headsman. 

BARADAS. 

Oh,  sir,  too  late  to  falter  :  when  we  meet 

We  must  arrange  the  separate,  coarser  scheme. 

For  Richelieu's  death.     Of  this  despatch  De  Mauprat 

Must  nothing  learn.'    He  only  bites  at  vengeance. 

And  he  would  start  from  treason.     We  must  post  him 

Without  the  door  at  Marion's,  as  a  sentry. 

{Aside)  So,  Avhen  his  head  is  on  the  block,  his  tongue 

Camiot  betray  our  more  august  designs ! 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

I'll  meet  you,  if  the  king  can  spare  me.     {Aside)  No! 
I  am  too  old  a  goose  to  play  with  foxes  ; 
I'll  roost  at  home.     Meanwhile,  in  the  next  room 
There's  a  delicious  pate  ;  let's  discuss  it. 


48  RICHELIEU;  OR,  [act  II. 

BARADAS. 

Pshaw !  a  man  fiU'd  with  a  sublime  ambition 
Has  no  time  to  discuss  your  pates. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Pshaw ! 
And  a  man  filled  with  as  sublime  a  pate 
Has  no  time  to  discuss  ambition.     Gad, 
I  have  the  best  of  it ! 

{Enter  Julie  hastily  with  first  courtier.) 

JULIE  {to  courtier), 

A  summons,  sir, 
To  attend  the  Louvre  ?    On  this  day,  too  ? 

COURTIER. 

Madame, 
The  royal  carriage  waits  below.     Messire  {to  De  Serin- 

ghen), 
You  will  return  with  us. 

JULIE. 

What  can  this  mean  ? 
Where  is  my  husband  1 

BARADAS. 

He  has  left  the  house 
Perhaps  till  nightfall ;  so  he  bade  me  tell  you. 
Alas  !  were  I  the  lord  of  such  fair  treasure — 

JULIE  {impatiently). 
Till  nightfall  1     Strange  ;  my  heart  misgives  me ! 

COURTIER. 

Madame, 
My  orders  will  not  brook  delay. 

JULIE  {to  Baradas). 

You'll  see  him, 
And  you  will  tell  him ! 

BARADAS. 

From  the  flowers  of  Hybla 
Never  more  gladly  did  the  bee  bear  honey, 
Than  I  take  sweetness  from  those  rosiest  lips, 
Though  to  the  hive  of  others ! 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACV.  49 

COURTIER  {to  De  Beringhen). 

Come,  messire. 
DE  BERINGHEN  (hesitating). 
One  moment,  just  to — 

COURTIER. 

Come,  sir. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

I  shall  not 
Discuss  the  pate  after  all.     'Ecod, 
I'm  puzzled  now.    I  don't  know  who's  the  best  of  it ! 
[Exeunt  Julie,  De  Beringhen,  and  courtier. 

BARADAS. 

Now  will  this  fire  his  fever  into  madness  ! 

All  is  made  clear ;  Mauprat  ynust  murder  Richelieu  ; 

Die  for  that  crime  :  I  shall  console  his  Julie. 

This  will  reach  Bouillon !  from  the  wrecks  of  France 

I  shall  carve  out,  who  knows,  perchance  a  throne  ! 

All  in  despite  of  my  lord  cardinal. 

Enter  De  Mauprat  from  the  gardens. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

speak !  can  it  be  ■?    Methought  that  from  the  terrace 
I  saw  the  carriage  of  the  king — and  Juhe  ! 
No  !  no  !  my  phrensy  peoples  the  void  air 
With  its  own  phantoms  ! 

BARADAS. 

Nay,  too  true.    Alas ! 
Was  ever  lightning  swifter  or  more  blasting. 
Than  RicheUeu's  forked  guile  T 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

I'll  to  the  Louvre — 

BARADAS. 

And  lose  all  hope !    The  Louvre  !  the  sure  gate 
To  the  Bastile ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

The  king— 

BARADAS. 

Is  but  the  wax, 
E 


50  RICHELIEU ;  or,  [act  ii 

Which  Richelieu  stamps  !     Break  the  malignant  seal. 
And  I  will  rase  the  print!     Come,  man,  take  heart ! 
Her  virtue  well  could  brave  a  sterner  trial 
Than  a  lew  hours  of  cold  imperious  courtship. 
Were  RicheUeu  dust — no  danger  ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Ghastly  Vengeance ! 
To  thee  and  thine  august  and  solemn  sister, 
The  unrelenting  Death  !  I  dedicate 
The  blood  of  Armand  Richelieu  !     When  dishonour 
Reaches  our  hearths,  law  dies,  and  murder  takes 
The  angel  shape  of  justice  ! 

BARADAS. 

Bravely  said ! 
At  midnight — Marion's !     Nay,  I  cannot  leave  thee 
To  thoughts  that — 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Speak  not  to  me  !     I  am  yours ! 
But  speak  not !     There's  a  voice  within  my  soul, 
Whose  cry  could  drown  the  thunder.     Oh!  if  men 
Will  play  dark  sorcery  with  the  heart  of  man. 
Let  them  who  raise  the  spell,  beware  the  fiend ! 

•  {Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

A  room  in  the  Palais  Cardinal  {as  in  the  First  Act). 

Richelieu.     Joseph. 

Franqois,  writing  at  a  table. 

JOSEPH. 

Yes  ;  Fluguet,  taking  his  accustom'd  round, 
Disguised  as  some  plain  burgher,  heard  these  rufHers 
Quoting  your  name  :  he  listen'd  :  "  Pshaw,"  said  one, 
"  We  are  to  seize  the  cardinal  in  his  palace 
To-morrow  !"    "  How  V  the  other  ask'd.    "  You'll  hear 
The  whole  design  to-night ;  the  Duke  of  Orleans 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  51 

And  Baradas  have  got  the  map  of  action 

At  their  fingers'  end."     "  So  be  it,"  quoth  the  other; 

"  I  will  be  there — Marion  de  Lorme's — at  midnight !" 

RICHELIEU. 

I  have  them,  man,  I  have  them ! 

JOSEPH. 

So  they  say 
Of  you,  my  lord  ;  beheve  me,  that  their  plans 
Are  mightier  than  you  deem.     You  must  employ 
Means  no  less  vast  to  meet  them ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Bah !  in  policy 
We  foil  gigantic  danger,  not  by  giants, 
But  dwarfs.     The  statues  of  our  stately  fortune 
Are  sculptured  by  the  chisel,  not  the  axe  !* 
Ah !  were  I  younger,  by  the  knightly  heart 
That  beats  beneath  these  priestly  robes,t  I  would 
Have  pastime  with  these  cutthroats !     Yea,  as  when, 
Lured  to  the  ambush  of  the  expecting  foe, 
1  clove  my  path  through  the  plumed  sea! 
Reach  me  yon  falchion,  Francois  ;  not  that  bawble 
For  carpet-warriors  ;  j^onder,  such  a  blade 
As  old  Charles  Martel  might  have  wielded  when 
He  drove  the  Saracen  from  F;ance. 

*  Richelieu  not  only  employed  the  lowest,  but  would  often  consult 
men  commonly  esteemed  the  dullest.  "  II  disoit  que  dans  des  choses 
de  Uhs  grande  importance,  il  avait  experimente,  que  les  moms  sages 
donnoient  sOuvent  les  meilleurs  exp^dicns." — Le  Cterc. 

t  Both  Richelieu  and  Joseph  were  originally  intended  for  the  pro- 
fession of  arms.  Joseph  had  served  before  he  obeyed  the  spiritual 
inspiration  to  become  a  Capuchin.  The  death  of  his  brother  opened 
to  Richelieu  the  bishopric  of  Lu(;on  ;  but  his  military  propensities 
were  as  strong  as  his  priestly  ambition.  I  need  scarcely  add  that 
the  cardinal,  during  his  brilliant  campaign  in  Italy,  marched  at  the 
head  of  his  troops  in  complete  armour.  It  was  under  his  adminis- 
tration that  occurs  the  last  example  of  proclaiming  war  by  the  chiv- 
alric  defiance  of  herald  and  cartel.  Richelieu  valued  himself  much 
on  his  personal  activity,  for  his  vanity  was  as  universal  as  his  ambi- 
tion. A  nobleman  of  the  house  of  Grammont  one  day  found  him 
employed  in  jumping,  and,  with  all  the  savoir  vivre  of  a  Frenchman 
and  a  courtier,  oft'ered  to  jump  against  him.  He  suffered  the  cardi- 
nal to  jump  higher,  and  soon  after  found  himself  rewarded  by  an  ap- 
pointment. Yet,  strangely  enough,  this  vanity  did  not  lead  to  a  pat- 
ronage injurious  to  the  state  ;  fur  never  before  in  France  was  ability 
made  so  essential  a  requisite  in  promotion.  He  was  lucky  in  finding 
the  cleverest  fellows  among  his  adroitest  flatterers. 


62  RICHELIEU;  OR,  [act  II. 

{Frangots  brings  him  one  of  the  long  two-handed  swords 
worn  in  the  Middle  Ages.) 

With  this 
I,  at  Roclielle,  did  hand  to  hand  engage 
The  stalwart  Enghsher;  no  mongrels,  boy, 
Those  island  mastiffs ;  mark  the  notch— a  deep  one— 
His  casque  made  here.     I  shore  him  to  the  waist! 
A  toy,  a  feather,  then ! 

{Tries  to  wield,  and  lets  it  fall.) 
You  see  a  child  could 
Slay  Richelieu  now. 

FRANCOIS  {his  hand  on  his  hilt). 
But  now,  at  your  command 
Are  other  weapons,  my  good  lord. 
RICHELIEU  {who  hos  Seated  himself  as  to  write,  lifts  the  pen). 

True,  THIS ! 
Beneath  the  rule  of  men  entirely  great 
The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword.     Behold 
The  arch-enchanter's  wand !  itself  a  nothing  ! 
But  taking  sorcery  from  the  master-hand 
To  paralyze  the  Caesars,  and  to  strike 
The  loud  earth  breathless  !     Take  away  the  sword  ; 
States  can  be  saved  without  it ! 

{Looking  on  the  clock.) 

'Tis  the  hour ; 
Retire,  sir.  {Exit  Franqois 

{A  knock  is  heard.     A  door,  concealed  in  the  arras,  opens 
cautiously.     Enter  Marion  de  Lorme.) 

JOSEPH  {amazed). 
Marion  de  Lorme ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Hist !    Joseph, 
Keep  guard. 

{Joseph  retires  to  the  principal  entrance.) 
My  faithful  Marion ! 

MARION. 

Good,  my  lord, 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPrRACY.  .  53 

They  meet  to-night  in  my  poor  house.    The  Duke 
Of  Orleans  heads  them. 

RICHELIEU. 

Yes ;  go  on. 

MARION. 

His  highness 
/>  Much  question'd  if  I  knew  some  brave,  discreet, 
/  And  vigilant  man,  whose  tongue  could  keep  a  secret, 
/  And  who  had  those  twin  qualities  for  service, 
The  love  of  gold,  the  hate  of  RicheUeu. 

RICHELIEU. 

Youl 

MARION. 

Made  answer,  "  Yes,  my  brother ;  bold  and  trusty, 
Whose  faith  my  faith  could  pledge  ;"  the  duke  then  bade 

me 
Have  him  equipp'd  and  arm'd,  well-mounted,  ready 
This  night  to  part  for  Italy. 

RICHELIEU. 

Aha ! 
Has  Bouillon  too  turn'd  traitor !     So  methought ! 
What  part  of  Italy  !    ~ 

MARION. 

The  Piedmont  frontier. 
Where  Bouillon  lies  encamp'd. 

RICHELIEU. 

Now  there  is  danger ! 
Great  danger  !     If  he  tamper  with  the  Spaniard, 
And  Louis  list  not  to  my  council,  as. 
Without  sure  proof,  he  will  not,  France  is  lost. 
What  more  1 

MARION. 

Dark  hints  of  some  design  to  seize 
Your  person  in  your  palace.     Nothing  clear  ; 
His  highness  trembled  while  he  spoke ;  the  words 
Did  choke  each  other ! 

RICHELIEU. 

So !    Who  is  the  brother 
E  2 


54         .  RICHELIEU;  OR,  [act  ir. 

You  recommended  to  tlie  duke  ■? 

MARION. 

Whoever 
Your  eminence  may  father ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Darling  Marion  !* 

(Goes  to  the  table,  and  returns  with  a  large  bag  of  gold.) 

There — pshaw — a  trifle  !     "What  an  eye  you  have ! 
And  what  a  smile,  child !  {/asses  her.)    Ah !  you  fair  per- ' 

dition, 
'Tis  well  I'm  old ! 

MARION  {aside  and  seriously). 

What  a  great  man  he  is ! 

RICHELIEU. 

You  are  sure  they  meet  1  the  hour  1 

MARION. 

At  midnight. 

RICHELIEU.  -*■».->» 

And 
You  will  engage  to  give  the  duke's  despatch 
To  whom  I  send  ] 

MARION. 

Ay,  marry ! 

RICHELIEU  {aside). 

Huguet  ?     No ; 

*  Voltaire  openly  charges  Richelieu  with  being  the  lover  of  Marion 
de  Lorme,  whom  the  great  poet  of  France,  Victor  Hugo,  has  sacri- 
ficed history  to  ailorn  with  qualities  which  were  certainly  not  added 
to  her  personal  charms.  She  was  not  less  perfidious  than  beautiful. 
Le  Clerc,  jiropcrly,  refutes  the  accusation  of  Voltaire,  against  the 
discretion  of  Richelieu  ;  and  says,  very  justly,  that  if  the  great  min- 
ister had  the  frailties  of  liuinan  nature,  he  learned  how  to  veil  them  ; 
at  least  when  he  obtained  ttie  scarlet.  In  earlier  life  he  had  been 
prone  to  gallantries  which  a  little  prepossessed  the  king  (who  was 
formal  and  decorous,  and  threw  a  singular  coldness  into  the  few  at- 
tachments he  permitted  to  himself)  against  the  aspiring  intriguer. 
But  these  gayer  occupations  died  away  in  the  engagement  of  higher 
pursuits  or  of  darker  passions. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  55 

He  will  be  wanted  elsewhere.     Joseph  *?  zealous, 
But  too  well  known,  too  much  the  elder  brother ! 
Mauprat  1  alas  !  it  is  his  wedding-day ! 
Frangois  ]  the  man  of  men  !  unnoted,  young, 
Ambitious.     {Goes  to  the  door)  Francois ! 

Enter  Franqois, 

RICHELIEU. 

Follow  this  fair  lady 
•(Find  him  the  suiting  garments,  Marion) :  take 
My  fleetest  steed  :  arm  thyself  to  the  teeth ; 
A  packet  will  be  given  you,  with  orders. 
No  matter  what !    The  instant  that  your  hand 
Closes  upon  it,  clutch  it,  like  your  honour. 
Which  death  alone  can  steal  or  ravish ;  set 
Spurs  to  your  steed ;  be  breathless  till  you  stand 
Again  before  me.     Stay,  sir !     You  will  find  me 
Two  short  leagues  hence,  at  Ruelle,  in  my  castle. 
Young  man,  be  blithe  !  for,  note  me,  from  the  hour 
I  grasp  that  packet,  think  your  guardian  star 
Rains  fortune  on  you ! 

FRANCOIS. 

If  I  fail— 

RICHELIEU. 

Fail!  fail! 
In  the  lexicon  of  youth,  which  Fate  reserves 
For  a  bright  manhood,  there  is  no  such  word 
As  fail !     (You  will  instruct  him  further,  Marion.) 
Follow  her,  but  at  distance  ;  speak  not  to  her 
Till  you  are  housed.     Farewell,  boy !     Never  say 
"  Fair  again. 

FRANCOIS. 

I  will  not ! 
RICHELIEU  (patting  his  locks). 

There's  my  young  hero ! 

[Exeunt  Franqois — Marion. 

RICHELIEU. 

So,  they  would  seize  my  person  in  this  palace  ^ 
I  cannot  guess  their  scheme  :  but  my  retinue 
Is  here  too  large  I  a  single  traitor  could 


56  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  II. 

Strike  impotent  the  failh  of  thousands  ;  Joseph, 
Art  sure  of  Huguet !     Think. — we  hang'd  his  father! 

JOSEPH. 

But  you  have  bought  the  son  ;  heap'd  favours  on  him ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Trash !  favours  past,  that's  nothing.     In  his  hours 
Of  confidence  with  you,  has  he  named  the  favours 
To  come — he  counts  on  ? 

JOSEPH. 

Yes  :  a  colonel's  rank, 
And  letters  of  nobility. 

RICHELIEU. 

What,  Huguet ! 

{Here  Huguet  enters,  as  to  address  the  cardinal,  who  does 
not  perceive  him.) 

HUGUET. 

My  own  name,  soft — {glides  behind  the  screen.) 

RICHELIEU. 

Colonel  and  nobleman ! 
My  bashful  Huguet,  that  can  never  be  ! 
We  have  him  not  the  less ;  we'll  promise  it ! 
And  see  the  king  withholds !     Ah,  kings  are  oft 
A  great  convenience  to  a  minister ! 
No  wrong  to  Huguet  either !     Moralists 
Say,  hope  is  sweeter  than  possession  !     Yes, 
We'll  count  on  Huguet !     Favours  past  do  gorge 
Our  dogs  ;  leave  service  drowsy  ;  dull  the  scent, 
Slacken  the  speed  ;  favours  to  come,  my  Joseph, 
Produce  a  lusty,  hungry  gratitude, 
A  ravenous  zeal,  that  of  the  commonest  cur 
Would  make  a  Cerberus.     You  arc  right,  this  treason 
Assumes  a  fearful  aspect :  but,  once  crush'd. 
Its  very  ashes  shall  manure  the  soil 
Of  power;  and  ripen  such  full  sheaves  of  greatness, 
That  all  the  summer  of  my  fate  shall  seem 
Fruitless  beside  the  autumn ! 

{Huguet  holds  up  his  hand  menacingly,  and  creeps  out.) 

JOSEPH. 

The  saints  grant  it ! 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONiSPIRACY.  57 

RICHELIEU  {solemnly). 
Yes,  for  sweet  France,  Heaven  grant  it !  Oh  my  country, 
For  thee,  thee  only,  Uiough  men  deem  it  not, 
Are  toil  and  terror  my  familiars  !     I 
Have  made  thee  great  and  fair ;  upon  thy  brows 
Wreath'd  the  old  Roman  laurel :  at  thy  feet 
Bow'd  nations  down.     No  pulse  in  my  ambition 
Whose  beatings  were  not  measured  from  thy  heart ! 
[\i\  the  old  times  before  us,  patriots  lived* 
And  died  for  liberty — 

JOSEPH. 

As  you  would  live 
And  die  for  despotry— 

RICHELIEU. 

False  monk,  not  so  ; 
But  for  the  purple  and  the  power  wherein 
State  clothes  herself.     I  love  my  native  land 
Not  as  Venetian,  Englisher,  or  Swiss, 
But  as  a  noble  and  a  priest  of  France  ; 
"  All  things  for  France" — lo,  my  eternal  maxim  ! 
The  vital  axle  of  the  restless  wheels 
That  bear  me  on !     With  her  I  have  entwined 
My  passions  and  my  fate,  my  crimes,  my  virtues ; 
Hated  and  loved,t  schemed,  and  shed  men's  blood. 

*  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  representation. 

t  Richelieu  did  in  fact  so  thoroughly  associate  himself  with  the 
state,  that,  in  cases  where  the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law  had  been 
incurred,  Le  Clerc  justly  observes  that  he  was  more  inexorable  to 
those  he  had  favoured,  even  to  his  own  connexions,  than  to  other 
and  more  indifferent  offenders.  It  must  be  remembered,  as  some 
excuse  for  his  unrelenting  sternness,  that,  before  his  time,  the  great 
had  been  accustomed  to  commit  any  disorder  with  impunity— even 
the  crime  of  treason,  "  auparavant  on  ne  faisoit  poser  les  amies  aux 
rebelles  qu'en  leur  accordant  quelque  recompense."  On  entering 
into  the  administration,  he  therefore  laid  it  down  as  a  maxim  neces- 
sary to  the  existence  of  the  state,  that  "  no  crime  should  be  com- 
mitted with  impunity."  To  carry  out  this  maxim,  the  long-estab- 
lished license  to  crime  made  even  justice  seem  cruel.  But  the  vic- 
tims most  commiserated  from  their  birth  or  accomplishments,  as 
Montmorcnci  or  Cinq  Mars,  were  traitors  in  actual  conspiracy  against 
their  country,  and  would  have  forfeited  life  in  any  land  where  the 
punishment  of  death  existed,  and  the  lawgiver  was  strong  enough  to 
vindicate  the  law.  Richelieu  was,  in  fact,  a  patriot  i.nsoftened  by 
philanthropy.  As  in  Venice  (where  the  favourite  aphorism  was, 
Venice  first,*  Christianity  next),  so  with  Richelieu  the  primary 

*  "  Pria  VeneziBiia,  poi  Christiane." 


58  Richelieu;  or,  [act  ii- 

As  the  calm  crafts  of  Tuscan  sages  teach 

Tliose  who  would  make  their  couutry  great.     Beyond 

The  map  of  France,  my  heart  can  travel  not, 

But  fills  that  limit  to  its  farthest  verge ; 

And  while  1  live,  Richelieu  and  France  are  one.] 

We  priests,  to  whom  the  church  forbids  in  youth 

The  plighted  one,  to  manhood's  toil  denies 

The  soother  helpmate  ;  from  our  wither'd  age 

Shuts  the  sweet  blossoms  of  tho-sccond  spring 

That  smiles  in  the  name  of  father.     We  are  yet 

Not  holier  than  humanity,  and  must 

Fulfil  humanity's  condition.     Love! 

Debarr'd  the  actual,  we  but  breathe  a  life 

To  the  chill  marble  of  the  ideal.     Thus, 

In  thy  unseen  and  abstract  majesty, 

My  France,  my  country,  I  have  bodied  forth 

A  thing  to  love.     What  are  these  robes  of  state, 

This  pomp,  this  palace"!  perishable  bawbles ! 

In  this  world  two  things  only  are  immortal — 

Fame  and  a  people  ! 

Enter  Huguet. 

HUGUET. 

My  lord  cardinal, 
Your  eminence  bade  me  seek  you  at  this  hour. 

consideration  was,  "  what  will  be  best  for  the  country  ?"  He  had  no 
abstract  principle,  whether  as  a  politician  or  a  priest,  when  applied 
to  the  world  that  lay  beyond  the  boundaries  of  France.  Thus  he 
whose  object  was  to  found  in  France  a  splendid  and  imperious  des- 
potism, assisted  the  Parliamentary  party  in  England,  and  signed  a 
treaty  of  alliance  and  subsidies  with  the  Catalan  rebels  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  republic  in  Barcelona  ;  to  convulse  other  monarchies 
was  to  consolidate  the  growing  monarchy  of  France.  So  he  who 
completely  crushed  the  Protestant  party  at  home,  braved  all  the 
wrath  of  the  Vatican,  and  even  the  resentment  of  the  king,  in  giving 
the  most  essential  aid  to  the  Protestants  abroad.  There  was,  in- 
deed, a  largeness  of  view  in  his  hostility  to  French  Huguenots, 
which  must  be  carefully  distinguished  from  the  intolerance  of  the 
mere  priest.  He  opposed  them,  not  as  a  Catholic,  but  as  a  statesman. 
The  Huguenots  were  strong  republicans,  and  had  formed  plans  for 
dividing  France  into  provincial  commonwealihs  ;  and  the  existence  of 
Rochelie  was  absolutely  incompatible  with  the  integrity  of  the 
French  monarchy.  It  was  a  second  capital  held  by  tlie  Huguenots, 
claiming  independent  authority  and  the  right  to  treat  with  foreign 
powers.  Richelieu's  final  conquest  was  marked  by  a  humanity  that 
had  nothing  of  the  bigot.  The  Huguenots  obtained  a  complete  am- 
nesty, and  had  only  to  regret  the  loss  of  privileges  and  fortifications 
which  could  not  have  existed  with  any  security  to  the  rest  of  France. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  59 


RICHELIEU. 

Did  1 1    True,  Huguet.     So — you  overheard 
Strange  talk  among  these  gallants  T     Snares  and  traps 
For  Richelieu  ?     Well,  well  balk  them ;  let  me  think — 
The  men  at  arms  you  head — how  many  1 

HUGUET. 

Twenty,* 
My  lord. 

RICHELIEU. 

All  trusty ! 

HUGUET. 

Yes,  for  ordinary 
Occasions  ;  if  for  great  ones,  I  would  change 
Three  fourths  at  least. 

RICHELIEU. 

Ay,  what  are  great  occasions  ? 

HUGUET. 

Great  bribes ! 

RICHELIEU   (to  Joseph). 

Good  lack,  he  knows  some  paragons 
Superior  to  great  bribes ! 

HUGUET. 

True  gentlemen 
Who  have  transgress'd  the  laws,  and  value  life, 
And  lack  not  gold ;  your  eminence  alone 
Can  grant  them  pardon.     Ergo,  you  can  trust  them  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Logic  i     So  be  it ;  let  this  honest  twenty 
Be  arm'd  and  mounted :  (aside)  so  they  meet  at  midnight, 
The  attempt  on  me  to-morrow.     Ho  !  we'll  strike 
'Twixt  wind  and  water.  (Aloud)  Does  it  need  much  time 
To  find  these  ornaments  to  human  nature  ! 

*  The  guard  attached  to  Richelieu's  person  was  in  the  first  in- 
stance fifty  arquebusiers,  afterward  increased  to  two  companies  of 
cavalry  and  two  hundred  musketeers.  Huguet  is,  therefore,  to  be 
considered  merely  as  the  lieutenant  of  a  small  detachment  of  this 
little  army.  In  point  of  fact,  the  subdivisions  of  the  guard  took  it  in 
turns  to  serve. 


60  RICHELIEU ;  on,  [act  ii. 


HUGUET. 

My  lord,  the  trustiest  of  them  are  not  birds 
That  love  the  dayhght.     I  do  know  a  haunt 
Where  they  meet  nightly — 

RICHELIEU. 

Ere  the  dawn  be  gray, 
All  could  be  arm'd,  assembled,  and  at  Ruelle 
In  my  old  hall  1 

HUGUET- 

By  one  hour  after  midnight. 

RICHELIEU. 

The  castle's  strong.     You  know  its  outlets,  Huguet  1 
Would  twenty  men,  well  posted,  keep  such  guard 
That  not  one  step  (and  murther's  step  is  stealthy) 
Could  ghde  within,  unseen  1 

HUGUET. 

A  triple  wall, 
A  drawbridge  and  portcullis,  twenty  men 
Under  my  lead,  a  month  might  hold  that  castle 
Against  a  host. 

RICHELIEU. 

They  do  not  strike  till  morning, 
Yet  I  will  shift  the  quarter.     Bid  the  grooms 
Prepare  the  litter ;  I  will  hence  to  Rnelle 
While  daylight  last ;  and  one  hour  after  midnight 
You  and  your  twenty  saints  shall  seek  me  thither!  • 
You're  made  to  rise  !     You  are,  sir ;  eyes  of  lynx, 
Ears  of  the  stag,  a  footfall  like  the  snow ; 
You  are  a  valiant  fellow  ;  yea,  a  trusty, 
Religious,  exemplary,  incorrupt, 
And  precious  jewel  of  a  fellow,  Huguet ! 
If  I  live  long  enough — ay,  mark  my  words — 
If  I  live  long  enough,  you'll  be  a  colonel ; 
Noble,  perhaps !     One  hour,  sir,  after  midnight. 

HUGUET. 

You  leave  me  dumb  with  gratitude,  my  lord ; 
I'll  pick  the  trustiest  (aside)  Marion's  house  can  furnish  \ 

[Exit  Huguet, 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  61 


RICHELIEU. 

How  like  a  spider  shall  I  sit  in  my  hole, 
And  watch  the  meshes  tremble. 

JOSEPH. 

But,  my  lord, 
Were  it  not  wiser  still  to  man  the  palace, 
And  seize  the  traitors  in  the  act  1 

RICHELIEU. 

No ;  Louis, 
Long  chafed  against  me,  Julie  stolen  from  him 
Will  rouse  him  more.     He'll  say  I  hatch'd  the  treason, 
Or  scout  my  charge.    He  half  desires  my  death  ; 
Bnt  the  despatch  to  Bouillon,  some  dark  scheme 
Against  his  crown — there  is  our  weapon,  Joseph  ! 
With  tliat,  all  safe  ;  without  it  all  is  peril ! 
Meanwhile  to  my  old  castle ;  you  to  court. 
Diving  with  careless  eyes  into  men's  hearts, 
As  ghostly  churchmen  should  do  !     See  the  king, 
Bid  him  peruse  that  sage  and  holy  treatise. 
Wherein  'tis  set  forth  how  a  premier  should 
Be  chosen  from  the  priesthood  ;  how  the  king 
Should  never  listen  to  a  single  charge 
Against  his  servant,  nor  conceal  one  whisper 
That  the  rank  envies  of  a  court  distil 
Into  his  ear,  to  fester  the  fair  name 
Of  my — I  meaii  his  minister !     Oh !  Joseph, 
A  most  convincing  treatise.* 

Good  ;  all  favours        * 
If  Frangois  be  but  bold  and  Huguet  honest. 
Huguet  I  half  suspect;  he  bowed  too  low; 
'Tis  not  his  way. 

JOSEPH. 

This  is  the  curse,  my  lord, 
Of  your  high  state ;  suspicion  of  all  m.en. 

*  This  tract  on  the  "  Unity  of  the  Minister,"  contains  all  the  doc- 
trines, and  many  more  to  the  same  effect,  referred  to  in  the  text,  and 
had  a  prodigious  influence  on  the  conscience  of  the  poor  king.  At 
the  onset  of  his  career,  Richelieu,  as  deputy  of  the  clergy  of  Poitou, 
complained  in  his  harangue  to  the  king  that  ecclesiastics  were  too 
rarely  summoned  to  the  royal  councils,  and  invoked  the  example  of 
the  Druids! 


62  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  II. 


RICHELIEU  {sadhj). 

True,  true  ;  my  leeches  bribed  to  poisoners  ;  pages 

To  strangle  me  in  sleep.     My  very  king 

(This  brain  the  unresting  loom,  from  which  was  woven 

The  purple  of  his  greatness)  leagued  against  me. 

Old,  childless,  friendless,  broken,  all  forsake ; 

All— all— but— 

JOSEPH. 

WhatT 

RICHELIEU. 

The  indomitable  heart 
Of  Armand  Richelieu ! 

JOSEPH. 

Naught  beside  \ 

RICHELIEU. 

Why,  Julie, 
My  own  dear  foster-child,  forgive  me  !  yes ; 
This  morning,  shining  through  their  happy  tears, 
Thy  soft  eyes  bless'd  me  !  and  thy  lord,  in  danger 
He  would  forsake  me  not. 

JOSEPH. 

And  .Joseph — 

RICHELIEU  {after  a  pause). 

You— 
Yes,  I  believe  you ;  yes,  for  all  men  fear  you  ; 
And  the  world  loves  you  not.     And  I,  friend  Joseph, 
I  am  the  only  man  who  could,  my  Joseph, 
Make  you  a  bishop.*     Come,  we'll  go  to  dinner. 
And  talk  the  while  of  methods  to  advance 
Our  Mother  Church.f     Ah,  Joseph,  Bishop  Joseph ! 

*  Joseph's  ambition  was  not,  however,  so  moderate  ;  he  refused  a 
bishopric,  and  desired  the  cardinal's  hat,  for  which  favour  Richelieu 
openly  supplicated  the  Holy  See,  but  contrived  somehow  or  other 
never  to  effect  it,  although  two  ambassadors  applied  for  it  at  Rome. 

t  The  peculiar  religion  of  P^re  Joseph  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
following  anecdote  :  An  officer,  whom  he  had  dismissed  upon  an  ex- 
pedition into  Germany,  moved  by  conscience  at  the  orders  he  had  re- 
ceived, returned  for  farther  explanations,  and  found  the  Capuchin  di- 
sant  sa  messe.  He  approached  and  whispered,  "  But,  my  father,  if 
these  people  defend  themselves—"  "  KUi  all"  (Qu'on  tue  tout),  an- 
swered the  g^ood  father,  coatinmng  his  devotions. 


ACT    III.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  63 


ACT    III. 

Seconti  3032  (il^iliniiit)t). 

SCENE   I. 

Richelieu's  Castle  at  Ruelle.     A  Gothic  chamber.     Moon- 
light at  the  ivindow,  occasionally  obscured, 

RICHELIEU  {reading).* 
"  In  silence  and  at  night,  the  conscience  feels 
That  life  should  soar  to  nobler  ends  than  power." 
So  sayest  thou,  sage  and  sober  moralist ! 
But  wert  thou  tried  ?     Sublime  philosophy, 
Thou  art  the  patriarch's  ladder,  reaching  heaven, 
And  bright  with  beck'ning  angels  ;  but,  alas ! 
We  see  thee,  like  the  patriarch,  but  in  dreams, 
By  the  first  step,  dull-slumbering  on  the  earth. 
I  am  not  happy !  with  the  Titan's  lust 
I  woo'd  a  goddess,  and  I  clasp  a  cloud. 
When  I  am  dust,  my  name  shall,  like  a  star, 
Shine  through  wan  space,  a  glory ;  and  a  prophet 
Whereby  pale  seers  shall  from  their  aery  towers 
Con  all  the  ominous  signs,  benign  or  evil, 
That  make  the  potent  astrologue  of  kings. 
But  shall  the  future  judge  me  by  the  ends 
That  I  have  wrought ;  or  by  the  dubious  means 
Through  which  the  stream  of  my  renown  hath  run 
Into  the  many-voiced  unfalhomed  Time  ? 
Foul  in  its  bed  lie  weeds  and  heaps  of  slime  ; 
And  with  its  waves,  when  sparkling  in  the  sun, 

*  I  need  not  say  that  the  great  length  of  this  soliloquy  adapts  it 
only  for  the  closet,  and  that  but  few  of  the  lines  are  preserved  on  the 
stage.  To  the  reader,  however,  the  passages  omitted  in  representa- 
tion will  not,  perhaps,  be  the  most  uninteresting  in  (he  play,  and  may 
be  deemed  necessary  to  the  completion  of  the  cardinal's  portrait,  ac- 
tion on  the  stage  supplying  so  subtly  the  place  of  words  in  the  closet. 
The  self-assured  sophistries  which,  in  the  text,  mingle  with  Riche- 
lieu's better-founded  arguments  in  apology  for  the  darker  traits  of 
his  character,  are  to  be  fonnd  scattered  tliroughout  the  writings  as- 
cribed to  him.  The  reader  will  observe  that  in  this  self-confession 
lies  the  latent  poetical  justice  which  separates  happiness  from  suc- 
cess.    [Lines  retained  on  the  stage  enclosed  in  brackets.] 


64  RICHELIEU;    OR,  [ACT    III. 

Ofttimes  the  secret  rivulets  that  swell 

Its  might  of  waters,  blend  the  hues  of  blood. 

Yet  are  my  sins  not  those  of  circumstance, 

That  all-pervading  atmosphere,  wherein 

Our  spirits,  like  the  imsteady  lizard,  take 

The  tints  that  colour  and  the  food  that  nurtures  ? 

[Oh !  ye,  whose  hourglass  shifts  its  tranquil  sands 

In  the  unvex'd  silence  of  a  student's  cell ; 

Ye,  whose  untempled  hearts  have  never  toss'd 

Upon  the  dark  and  stormy  tides  where  life 

Gives  battle  to  the  elements ;  and  man 

Wrestles  with  man  for  some  slight  plank,  whose  weight 

Will  bear  but  one,  while  round  the  desperate  wretch 

The  hungry  billows  roar,  and  the  fierce  Fate, 

Like  some  huge  monster,  dim-seen  through  the  surf, 

Waits  him  Mho  drops;  ye  safe  and  formal  men. 

Who  write  the  deeds,  and  with  unfeverish  hand 

Weigh  in  nice  scales  the  motives  of  the  great, 

Ye  cannot  know  what  ye  have  never  tried  !] 

History  preserves  only  the  fleshless  bones 

Of  what  we  are;  and  by  the  mocking  scull 

The  would-be  wise  pretend  to  guess  the  features '. 

Without  the  roundness  and  the  glow  of  life 

How  hideous  is  the  skeleton !     Without 

The  colourings  and  humanities  tliat  clothe 

Our  errors,  the  anatomists  of  schools 

Can  make  our  memory  hideous ! 

I  have  wrought 
Great  uses  out  of  evil  tools ;  and  they 
In  the  time  to  come  may  bask  beneath  the  light 
Which  I  have  stolen  from  tiie  angry  gods, 
And  warn  their  sons  against  the  glorious  theft, 
Forgetful  of  the  darkness  which  il  broke. 
I  have  shed  blood,  but  I  have  had  no  foes 
Save  those  the  state  had  ;*  if  my  wrath  was  deadly, 
'Tis  that  I  felt  my  country  in  my  veins. 
And  smote  her  sons  as  Brutus  smote  his  own.f 
And  yet  1  am  iiot  happy  ;  blanch'd  and  sear'd 
Before  my  time  ;  breathing  an  air  of  hate, 

*  It  is  well-known  that  when,  on  his  deathbed,  Richelieu  was  asked 
if  he  forgave  his  enemies,  he  replied,  "  I  never  had  any  but  those 
of  the  state."  And  this  was  true  enough,  for  Richelieu  and  the  state 
were  one. 

t  RicheHeu's  vindication  of  himself  from  cruelty  will  be  found  in 
various  parts  of  Petitot's  Collection,  vols,  xxi.,  xxx.  (bis.) 


SCENE    I.]  TUE    CONSPIRACY.  65 

And  seeing  daggers  in  the  eyes  of  men, 
And  wasting  powers  that  shake  the  thrones  of  earth 
In  contest  with  the  insects  ;  bearding  kings 
And  braved  by  lackeys  ;*  murder  at  my  bed; 
And  lone  amid  the  multitudinous  web, 
With  the  dread  three — that  are  the  fates  who  hold 
The  woof  and  shears — the  monk,  the  spy,  the  heads- 
man. 
And  this  is  power!     Alas!  I  am  not  happy. 

{After  a  pause. 
And  yet  the  Nile  is  fretted  by  the  weeds 
Its  rising  roots  not  up ;  but  never  yet 
Did  one  least  barrier  by  a  ripple  vex 
My  onward  tide,  unswept  in  sport  away.         ^. 
Am  I  so  ruthless,  then,  that  I  do  hate 
Them  who  hate  me  !     Tush,  tush  !  I  do  not  hate ; 
Nay,  I  forgive.     The  statesman  writes  the  doom, 
But  the  priest  sends  the  blessing.     I  forgive  them, 
But  I  destroy ;  forgiveness  is  mine  own. 
Destruction  is  the  state's  !     For  private  life, 
Scripture  the  guide  ;  for  public,  Machiavel. 
Would  Fortune  serve  me  if  the  Heaven  were  wroth  ] 
For  chance  makes  half  my  greatness.     I  was  born 
Beneath  the  aspect  of  a  bright-eyed  star, 
And  my  triumphant  adamant  of  soul 
Is  but  the  fix'd  persuasion  of  success. 
Ah  !  here  ! — that  spasm  ! — again  !     How  life  and  death' 
Do  wrestle  fornie  inomentlj^ !     And  yet 
The  king  looks  pale.     I  shall  outlive  the  king! 
And  then,  thou  insolent  Austrian,  who  didst  gibe 
At  the  ungainly,  gaunt,  and  daring  lover,t 

*  Voltaire  has  a  striking  passage  on  the  singular  fate  of  Richelieu, 
recalled  every  hour  from  his  gigantic  schenties  to  frustrate  some  mis- 
erable cabal  of  the  anteroom.  Hichelieu  would  often  exclaim,  that 
"Six  piedsde  terre"  (as  he  called  the  king's  cabmet)  "lui  donnaient 
plus  de  peine  que  tout  le  reste  de  ['Europe. "  The  death  of  Wallen- 
stein,  sacrificed  by  the  Emperor  Ferdinand,  produced  a  most  lively 
impression  upon  Richelieu.  He  found  many  traits  of  cou'iparison  be- 
tween Ferdinand  and  Louis,  Wallenstein  and  himself.  In  the  me- 
moirs—now regarded  by  the  best  authorities  as  written  by  his  sanc- 
tion, and  in  great  part  by  hunself— the  great  Frenchman  bursts  (when 
alluding  to  Wallenstein's  murder)  into  a  touching  and  pathetic  an- 
athema on  the  misere  de  cctte  vie  of  depcndance  on  jealous  and  timid 
royalty,  which  he  himself,  while  he  wrote,  sustained.  It  is  worthy 
of  remark,  that  it  was  precisely  at  the  period  of  Wallenstein's  death 
that  Richelieu  obtained  from  the  king  an  augmentation  of  his  guard. 

t  Richelieu  was  commonly  supposed,  tUuugh  I  cannot  say  I  find 

F  2 


66  KiciicLiEu;  OR,  [act  III. 

Sleeking  thy  looks  to  silken  Buckingham, 

Thou  shalt — no  matter!     I  have  outlived  love. 

Oh  beautiful,  all  golden,  gentle  youth ! 

Making  t'ly  palace  in  the  earless  front 

And  hopeful  eye  of  man — ere  yet  tlie  soul 

Hath  lost  the  memories  whicli  (so  Plato  dream'd) 

Breathed  glory  from  the  earlier  star  it  dwelt  in — 

Oh !  for  one  gale  from  thine  exulting  morning. 

Stirring  amid  the  roses,  where  of  old 

Love  shook  the  dcwdrops  from  his  glancing  hair ! 

Could  1  recall  the  past,  or  had  not  set 

The  prodigal  treasures  of  the  bankrupt  soul 

In  one  slight  bark  upon  the  shoreless  sea; 

The  yoked  steer,  after  his  day  of  toil, 

Forgets  the  goad  and  rests :  to  me  alike 

Or  day  or  night:  ambition  has  no  rest! 

Shall  I  resign  1   who  can  resign  himself? 

For  custom  is  oui'self ;  as  drink  and  food 

Become  our  bone  and  flesh,  the  aliments 

Nurturing  our  nobler  part,  the  mind — thoughts,  dreams, 

Passions,  and  aims,  in  the  revolving  cycle 

Of  the  great  alchymy,  at  length  are  made 

Our  mind  itself;  and  yet  the  sweets  of  leisure. 

An  honour'd  home,  far  from  these  base  intrigues. 

An  eyrie  on  the  heaven-kiss'd  heights  of  wisdom — 

{Taking  up  the  book. 
Speak  to  me,  moralist !     I'll  heed  thy  counsel. 
Were  it  not  best — 

{Enter  Franqois  hastily,  and  in  part  disguised.) 

RiCHELiEC  {Jlinging  away  the  hook). 

Philosophy,  thou  liest ! 
Quick,  the  despatch  !    Power,  empire !   Boy,  fhe  packet ! 

FRANCOIS. 

Kill  me,  my  lord. 

RICHELIEU. 

They  knew  thee,  they  suspected. 
They  gave  it  not — 

much  evidence  for  it,  to  have  been  too  presuming  in  an  interview  with 
Anne  of  Austria  (the  queen),  and  to  have  bitterly  resented  the  con- 
tempt she  expressed  for  him.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham's  frantic 
and  Quixotic  passion  for  the  queen  is  well  known. 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACV.  67 


FRANCOIS. 

He  gave  it — he,  the  Count 
De  Baradas  ;  with  his  own  hand  he  gave  it ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Baradas.     Joy !  out  with  it ! 

FRANCOIS. 

Listen, 
And  then  dismiss  me  to  the  headsman. 

RICHELIEU. 

Ha! 

FRANCOIS. 

They  led  me  to  a  chamber ;  there 
Orleans  and  Baradas,  and  some  half  score 
Whom  I  know  not,  were  met — 

RICHELIEU. 

Not  more ! 

FRANCOIS. 

But  from 
The  adjoining  chamber  broke  the  din  of  voices. 
The  clattering  tread  of  armed  men  ;  at  times 
A  shriller  cry,  that  yell'd  out,  "  Death  to  Richelieu !" 

RICHELIEU. 

Speak  not  of  me  :  thy  country/  is  in  danger  ! 
The  adjoining  room.     So,  so,  a  separate  treason ! 
The  one  thy  ruin,  France  !  the  meaner  crime, 
Left  to  their  tools,  my  murder ! 

FRANCOIS. 

Baradas 
Question'd  me  close — demurred — until,  at  last, 
O'erruled  by  Orleans,  gave  the  packet,  told  me 
That  life  and  death  were  in  the  scroll — this  gold — 

RICHELIEU. 

Gold  is  no  proof — 

FRANCOIS. 

And  Orleans  promised  thousands, 
When  Bouillon's  trumpets  in  the  streets  of  Paris 


68  RicHEMcr;  or,  [act  hi. 

Rang  out  shrill  answer  ;  hastening  from  the  house, 

My  footstep  in  the  stirrup,  Marion  stole 

Across  the  threshold,  whispering  "  Lose  no  moment 

Ere  Richelieu  have  tlie  packet:  tell  him,  too. 

Murder  is  in  the  winds  of  night,  and  Orleans 

Swears,  ere  the  dawn  the  cardinal  shall  be  clay." 

She  said,  and,  trembling,  fled  within ;  when,  lo  ! 

A  hand  of  iron  griped  me  ;  through  the  dark 

Gleam'd  the  dim  shadow  of  an  armed  man  : 

Ere  I  could  draw,  the  prize  was  wrested  from  me, 

And  a  hoarse  voice  gasp'd,  "  Spy,  I  spare  thee,  for 

This  steel  is  virgin  to  thy  lord  !"  witli  that 

He  vanish'd.     Scared  and  trembling  for  thy  safety, 

I  mounted,  fled,  and,  kneeling  at  thy  feet, 

Implore  thee  to  acquit  my  faith,  but  not, 

Like  him,  to  spare  my  life. 

KICHELIEU. 

Who  spake  of  life  1 
I  bade  thee  grasp  that  treasure  as  thine  honour, 
A  jewel  worth  whole  hecatombs  of  lives  ! 
Begone,  redeem  thine  honour ;  back  to  Marion, 
Or  Baradas,  or  Orleans ;  track  the  robber. 
Regain  the  packet,  or  crawl  on  to  age — 
Age  and  gray  hairs  like  mine — and  know,  thou  hast  lost 
That  which  had  made  thee  great  and  saved  thy  country. 
See  me  not  till  thou'st  bought  the  right  to  seek  me. 
Away !     Nay,  cheer  thee  ;  thou  hast  not  fail'd  yet ; 
There's  no  such  loord  as  '■'■  fail  /" 

FRANCOIS. 

Bless  you,  my  lord. 
For  that  one  smile!     I'll  wear  it  on  my  heart 
To  light  me  back  to  triumph.*  [Exit. 

RICHELIEU. 

The  poor  youth ! 
An  elder  had  ask'd  life  !     I  love  the  young  ! 
For  as  great  men  live  not  in  their  own  time, 

*  The  fear  and  the  hatred  wliich  Rifhelieu  generally  inspired 
were  not  shared  by  his  dependants  and  tlmse  about  his  person,  who 
are  said  "  to  have  adored  him." — Ses  domestiques  le  regardaient 
comine  le  meilleur  des  maitres. — Le  Clerc.  In  l'.\rt,  although  i7 
^toit  orgueilleux  et  coldre,  he  was,  en  mime  temps,  affahU  et  plein  de 
douceur  dans  Vabord ;  and  he  was  no  less  generous  to  those  who  served 
than  severe  to  those  who  opposed  him. 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACV,  69 

But  the  next  race,  so  in  the  young  my  soul 
Makes  manj'  Richelieus.     He  will  win  it  yet. 
Francois!    He's  gone.   My  murder!  Marion's  warning ! 
This  bravo's  threat !     Oh  for  the  morrow's  dawn  ! 
ril  set  my  spies  to  work ;  I'll  make  all  space 
(As  does  the  sun)  a  universal  ej'e  ; 
Huguet  shall  track,  Joseph  confess — ha!  ha! 
Strange,  while  I  laugh'd  I  shudder'd,  and  ev'n  now 
Through  the  chill  air  the  beating  of  my  heart 
Sounds  like  a  death-watch  by  a  sick  man's  pillow ; 
If  Huguet  could  deceive  me — hoofs  without — 
The  gates  unclose — steps  near  and  nearer ! 

{Enter  Julie.) 

JULIE. 

Cardinal ! 
My  father  !  {falls  at  his  feet.) 

RICHELIEU. 

Julie  at  this  hour  !  and  tears  ! 
What  ails  thee  ! 

JULIE. 

I  am  safe  ;  I  am  with  thee  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Safe  !     Wh}-,  in  all  the  storms  of  this  wild  world, 
What  wind  would  mar  the  violet  ] 

JULIE. 

That  man — 
Why  did  1  love  him  T  clinging  to  a  breast 
That  knows  no  shelter  \ 

Listen  :  late  at  noon, 
The  marriage-day,  ev'n  then  no  more  a  lover, 
He  left  me  coldly;  well,  I  sought  my  chamber 
To  weep  and  wonder,  but  to  hope  and  dream. 
Sudden  a  mandate  from  the  king,  to  attend 
Forthwith  his  pleasure  at  the  Louvre. 

RICHELIEU. 

Ha! 

You  did  obey  the  summons ;  and  the  king 
Reproach'd  your  hasty  nuptials. 


70  RICHELIEU  ;    OK,  [aCT    III. 


JULIE. 

Were  that  all ! 
He  frown'd  and  chid  ;  proclaim'd  the  bond  unlawful ; 
Bade  me  not  quit  my  chamber  in  the  palace, 
And  there  at  night,  alone — this  night — all  still — 
He  sought  my  presence — dared — thou  read'st  the  heart, 
Read  mine  !  I  cannot  speak  it ! 

EICHELIEU. 

He  a  king, 
You,  woman  ;  well,  you  yielded  ! 

JULIE. 

Cardinal, 
Dare  you  say  "  yielded  1"     Humbled  and  abash'd. 
He  from  the  chamber  crept — this  mighty  Louis  ; 
Crept  like  a  baffled  felon  !     Yielded  !     Ah  ! 
More  royalty  in  woman's  honest  heart 
Than  dwells  within  tlie  crowned  majesty 
And  sceptred  anger  of  a  hundred  kings  ! 
Yielded  !     Heavens  !  yielded  ! 

RICUELIEU. 

To  my  breast,  close,  close  ! 
The  world  would  never  need  a  Richeheu,  if 
Men — bearded,  mail'd  men — the  lords  of  earth — 
Resisted  flattery,  falsehood,  avarice,  pride, 
As  this  poor  child  with  the  dove's  innocent  scorn 
Her  sex's  tempters,  vanity  and  power  ! 
He  left  you  :  well ! 

JULIE. 

Then  came  a  sharper  trial ! 
At  the  king's  suit  the  Count  de  Baradas 
Sought  me  to  sooth,  to  fawn,  to  flatter,  while 
On  his  smooth  lip  insult  appear'd  more  hateful 
For  the  false  mask  of  pity  :  letting  fall 
Dark  hints  of  treachery,  with  a  world  of  sighs 
That  Heaven  had  granted  to  so  base  a  lord 
The  heart  whose  coldest  friendship  were  to  him 
What  Mexico  to  misers  !     Stung  at  last 
By  my  disdain,  the  dim  and  glimmering  sense 
Of  his  cloak'd  words  broke  into  bolder  light, 
And  THEN — ah !  then,  my  hauglUy  spirit  fail'd  me  ! 
Then  I  was  weak — wept — oh  !  such  bitter  tears  ! 


SCENE    v.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  71 

For  (turn  thy  face  aside,  and  let  me  whisper 
The  horror  to  thine  ear)  then  did  I  learn 
That  he — that  Adrien — that  my  husband — knew 
The  king's  polluting  suit,  aild  deem'd  it  honour! 
Then  all  the  terrible  and  loathsome  truth 
Glared  on  nie  ;  coldness,  waywardness,  reserve, 
Mystery  of  looks,  words,  all  unravell'd,  and 
I  saw  the  impostor  where  I  had  loved  the  god  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

I  think  thou  wrong'st  thy  husband ;  but  proceed. 

JULIE. 

Did  you  say  "  wrong'd"  him !     Cardinal,  my  father, 
Did  you  say  "  wrong'd  !"     Prove  it,  and  life  shall  grow 
One  prayer  for  thy  reward  and  his  forgiveness. 

RICHELIEU. 

Let  me  know  all. 

JULIE. 

To  the  despair  he  caused 
The  courtier  left  me  ;  but  amid  the  chaos 
Darted  one  guiding  ray — to  'scape — to  fly — 
Reach  Adrien,  learn  the  worst ;  'twas  then  near  mid 

night : 
Trembling,  I  left  my  chamber,  sought  the  queen, 
Fell  at  her  feet,  reveal'd  the  unholy  peril, 
Implored  her  aid  to  flee  our  joint  disgrace. 
Moved,  she  embraced  and  soothed  me;  nay, preserved ; 
Her  word  sufficed  to  unlock  the  palace  gates  : 
I  hasten'd  home,  but  home  was  desolate ; 
No  Adrien  there  !     Fearing  the  worst,  I  fled 
To  thee,  directed  hither.     As  my  wheels 
Paused  at  thy  gates,  the  clang  of  arms  behind, 
The  ring  of  hoofs — 

RICHELIEU. 

'Twas  but  my  guards,  fair  trembler. 
(So  Huguet  keeps  his  word ;  my  omens  wrong'd  him.)] 

JULIE. 

Oh,  in  one  hour  what  years  of  anguish  crowd ! 

rich;elieu. 
Nay,  there's  no  danger  now.     Thou  needest  rest. 
Come,  thou  shalt  lodge  beside  me.     Tush!  be  cheer'd, 


72  RICHBLIEU  ;    OR,  [act   III. 

My  rosiest  Amazon;  thou  wrong'st  thy  Theseus. 
All  will  be  well ;  yes,  yet  all  well, 

[Exeunt  through  a  side  door. 


SCENE  II. 

Enter   Huguet — De  Mauprat,   in   complete  armour,  his 

visor  down. 

{The  moonlight  obscured  at  the  casement.) 

HUGUET. 

Not  here ! 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

Oh,  I  will  find  him,  fear  not.     Hence,  and  guard 
The  galleries  where  the  menials  sleep ;  plant  sentries 
At  every  outlet ;  chance  should  throw  no  shadow 
Between  the  vengeance  and  the  victim  !     Go  ! 
Ere  yon  brief  vapour  that  obscures  the  moon, 
As  doth  our  deed  pale  conscience,  pass  away, 
The  mighty  shall  be  ashes. 


A  second  arm  ■? 


HUGUET. 

Will  you  not 


DE    MAUPRAT. 

To  slay  one  weak  old  man? 
Away !     No  lesser  wrongs  than  mine  can  make 
This  murder  lawful.     Hence  ! 

HUGUET. 

A  short  farewell ! 

[Exit  HuGUET. 

Re-enter  Richelieu  {not  perceiving  De  Mauprat). 

RICHELIEU. 

How  heavy  is  the  air !  the  vestal  lamp 
Of  the  sad  moon,  weary  with  vigil,  dies 
In  the  still  temple  of  the  solemn  heaven! 
The  very  darkness  lends  itself  to  fear, 
To  treason — 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  "73 


DE   MAUPRAT. 

And  to  death ! 

RICHELIEU. 

My  omens  lied  not ! 
Who  art  thou,  wretch  1 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Thy  doomsman ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Ho,  my  guards ! 
Huguet !  Montbrassil !  Vermont  ■? 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Ay,  thy  spirits 
Forsake  thee,  wizard ;  thy  bold  men  of  mail 
Are  my  confederates.     Stir  not !  but  one  step. 
And  know  the  next — thy  grave ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Thou  liest,  knave ! 
I  am  old,  infirm,  most  feeble,  but  thou  liest ! 
Armand  de  Richelieu  dies  not  by  the  hand 
Of  man  :  the  stars  have  said  it,*  and  the  voice 
Of  my  own  prophet  and  oracular  soul 
Confirms  the  shining  Sibyls  !     Call  them  all — 
Thy  brother  butchers  !     Earth  has  no  such  fiend ; 
No  !  as  one  parricide  of  his  father-land. 
Who  dares  in  Richelieu  murder  France ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Thy  stars 
Deceive  thee,  cardinal ;  thy  soul  of  wiles 
May  against  kings  and  armaments  avail. 
And  mock  the  embattled  world ;  but  powerless  now 
Against  the  sword  of  one  resolved  man, 
Upon  whose  forehead  thou  hast  written  shame ! 

RICHELIEU. 

I  breathe ;  he  is  not  a  hireling.     Have  I  wrong'd  thee  % 
Beware  surmise,  suspicion,  lies !     I  am 
Too  great  for  men  to  speak  the  truth  of  me. 

*  In  common  with  his  contemporaries,  Richelieu  was  credulous 
in  astrology  and  less  lawful  arts.  He  was  too  fortunate  a  man  not 
to  be  superstitious. 

G 


74  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT    III. 


C3    MAUPRAT. 

Thy  acts  are  thy  accusers,  cardinal ! 

In  his  hoi  youth,  a  soldier,  urged  to  crime 

Against  tlie  state,  placed  in  your  liands  his  life ; 

You  did  not  strike  the  blow  ;  but  o'er  his  head, 

Upon  the  gossamer  thread  of  your  caprice, 

Hover'd  the  axe.     His  the  brave  spirit's  hell, 

The  twilight  terror  of  suspense  ;  your  death 

Had  set  him  free  :  he  purposed  not,  nor  pray'd  it. 

One    day  you   summon'd,   mockVl  him    with   smooth 

pardon, 
Shower'd  wealth  upon  him,  bade  au  angel's  face 
Turn  earth  to  paradise — 

RICHELIEU. 

Well ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Was  this  mercy ! 
A  Caesar's  generous  vengeance  ?     Cardinal,  no  ! 
Judas,  not  C«sar,  was  the  model !     You 
Saved  him  from  death  for  shame  ;  reserved  to  grow 
The  scorn  of  living  men  ;  to  his  dead  si;es. 
Leprous  reproach;  scofTof  the  age  to  come; 
A  kind  convenience  ;  a  Sir  Pandarus 
To  his  own  bride,  and  the  august  adulterer ! 
Then  did  the  first  great  law  of  human  hearts. 
Which  with  the  patriot's,  not  the  rebel's,  name 
Crown'd  the  first  Brutus,  when  the  Tarquin  fell. 
Make  misery  royal ;  raise  this  desperate  wretch 
Into  thy  destiny  !     Expect  no  mercy ! 
Behold  De  Mauprat ! 

{Liftf,  his  visor.) 

RICHELIEU. 

To  thy  knees,  and  crawl 
For  pardon ;  or,  I  tell  thee,  thou  shalt  live 
For  such  remorse,  that,  did  I  hate  thee,  I 
Would  bid  thee  strike,  'hat  1  might  be  avenged! 
It  was  to  save  my  .lulie  from  the  king, 
That  in  tliy  valour  I  forgave  thy  crime  ; 
It  was  when  thou,  the  rash  and  ready  tool — 
Yea,  of  that  shame  thou  loath'st — didst  leave  thy  hearth 
To  the  polluter — in  these  arras  thy  bride 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  75 

Found  the  protecting  shelter  thine  withheld. 

(Goes  to  the  side  door.) 
Julie  de  Mauprat — Julie  ! 

Enter  Julie. 

Lo  !  my  witness ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

What  marvel's  this  ?     I  dream  !     My  Julie — thou  ! 
This  thy  beloved  hand  1 

JULIE. 

Henceforth  all  bond 
Between  us  twain  is  broken.     Were  it  not 
For  this  old  man,  I  miglit  in  truth  have  lost 
The  right,  now  mine,  to  scorn  thee  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

So,  you  hear  her  ? 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Thou  with  some  slander  hast  her  sense  infected  ! 

JUHE. 

No,  sir  :  he  did  excuse  thee  in  despite 

Of  all  that  wears  the  face  of  truth.     Thy  friend, 

Thy  co7ifidant,  familiar,  Baradas, 

Himself  reveal'd  thy  baseness. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Baseness ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Ay; 
That  thou  didst  court  dishonour. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Baradas ! 

Where  is  thy  thunder,  Heaven  ?  Duped !  snared  !  un- 
done ! 

Thou — thou  couldst  not  believe  him !  Thou  dost  love 
me  ! 

Love  cannot  feed  on  falsehoods  ! 

JULIE  {aside). 

Love  him !     Ah! 
Be  still,  my  heart !     Love  you  I  did  :  how  fondly. 


76  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [ACT     III. 

Woman — if  women  were  my  listeners  now — 
Alone  could  tell !     For  ever  ifled  my  dream : 
Farewell ;  all's  over ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Nay,  my  daughter,  these 
Are  but  the  binding  mists  of  daybreak  love 
Sprung  from  its  very  light,  and  heralding 
A  noon  of  happy  summer.     Take  her  hand 
And  speak  the  truth,  with  which  your  heart  runs  over, 
That  this  Count  Judas,  this  incarnate  falsehood. 
Never  lied  more  than  when  he  told  thy  JuUe 
That  Adrien  loved  her  not ;  except,  indeed. 
When  he  told  Adrien,  Julie  could  betray  him. 

JULIE  {embracing  De  Mauprat). 

You  love  me,  then !  you  love  me !  and  they  wrong'd 
you! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Ah !  couldst  thou  doubt  it  ? 

RICHELIEU. 

Why,  the  very  mole 
Less  blind  than  thou  !     Baradas  loves  thy  wife  ; 
Had  hoped  her  hand;  aspired  to  be  that  cloak 
To  the  king's  will,  which  to  thy  bluntness  seems 
The  Centaur's  poisonous  robe  ;  hopes  even  now 
To  make  thy  corpse  his  footstool  \o  thy  bed! 
Where  was  thy  wit,  man  ?     Ho !   these  schemes  are 

glass ! 
The  very  sun  shines  through  them. 


Can  you  forgive  you  ? 


DE    MAUPRAT. 

Oh,  my  lord, 


RICHELIEU. 

Ay,  and  save  you ! 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

Save! 


Terrible  word !  oh,  save  thyself:  these  halls 
Swarm  with  thy  foes :  already  for  thy  blood 
Pants  thirsty  murder ! 


SCENE  II.]  THE    COXSPIRACV.  77 


JULIE. 

Murder ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Hush !  put  by 
The  woman.     Hush  !  a  shriek,  a  cry,  a  breath 
Too  loud,  would  startle  from  its  horrent  pause 
The  swooping  death  !     Go  to  the  door  and  listen ! 
Now  for  escape ! 

DE   JIAUPRAT. 

None,  none  !     Their  blades  shall  pass 
This  heart  to  thine. 

RICHELIEU  {drijhj). 
An  honourable  outwork, 
But  much  too  near  the  citadel.     I  think 
That  I  can  trust  you  now  {slowly,  and  gazing  on  him) : 

yes ;  I  can  trust  you. 
How  many  of  my  troop  league  with  you? 


We  are  your  troop ! 


DE    MAUPRAT. 


RICHELIEU. 

And  Huguet  ? 

DE  MAUPRAT. 


All! 


Is  our  captain. 


RICHELIEU. 

A  retribution  power !  This  comes  of  spies  ! 
All  ?  then  the  lion's  skin  too  short  to-night ; 
Now  for  the  fox's  ! 

JULIE. 

A  hoarse,  gathering  murmur! 
Hurrying  and  heavy  footsteps! 

RICHELIEU. 

Ha !  the  posterns "? 

DE    MAUPR.\T. 

No  egress  where  no  sentry  ! 

G2 


78  RICHELIEU;  OR,  [act  III 


RICHELIEU. 

Follow  me ; 
I  have  it !  to  my  chamber — quick !     Come  Julie ! 
Hush  !     Mauprat,  come  ! 

Murmur  at  a  distance — Death  to  the  Cardinal ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Bloodhounds,  I  laugh  at  ye  !  ha!  ha!  we  will 
Baffle  them  yet.     Ha !  ha ! 

[Exeunt  Julie,  Mauprat,  Richelieu, 

HUGUET  (without). 

This  way,  this  way ! 


SCENE  HI. 

Enter  Huguet  and  the  conspirators. 

HUGUET. 

De  Mauprat's  hand  is  never  slow  in  battle ; 
Strange  if  it  falter  now !     Ha !  gone  ! 

FIRST   CONSPIRATOR. 

Perchance 
The  fox  had  crept  to  rest :  and  to  his  lair 
Death,  the  dark  huri^Elte.  tracks  him. 

Enter  Mauprat  {throwing^  open  the  doors  of  the  recess,  in 
which  a  bed,  whereom^ichelieu  lies  extended). 

MAUPRAT. 

Live  the  king! 
Richelieu  is  dead  1 

HUGUET  {advancing  tmuards  the  recess ;  MAUPftMr  follow- 
ing, his  hand  on  his  dagger).        '   ' 

Are  his  eyes  open  1 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Ay, 

As  if  in  life  ! 


SCENE    III.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  79 


HUGUET  {turning  back). 

I  will  not  look  on  him. 
You  have  been  long. 

DE  MAUPRAT. 

I  watch'd  him  till  he  slept. 
Heed  me.     No  trace  of  blood  reveals  the  deed  ; 
Strangled  in  sleep.     His  health  hath  long  been  broken 
Found  breathless  in  his  bed.     So  runs  our  tale, 
Remember !     Back  to  Paris  :  Orleans  gives 
Ten  thousand  crowns,  and  Baradas  a  lordship, 
To  him  who  first  gluts  vengeance  with  the  news 
That  Richelieu  is  in  heaven !     Quick,  that  all  France 
May  share  your  joy ' 


•  I 


HUGUET. 

And  youT 

DE  MAUPRAT. 


Will  stay,  to  crush 
Eager  suspicion ;  to  forbid  sharp  eyes 
To  dwell  too  closely  on  the  clay ;  prepare 
The  rites,  and  place  him  on  his  bier :  this  my  task. 
I  leave  to  you,  sirs,  the  more  grateful  lot 
Of  wealth  and  honours.     Hence  ! 


HUGUET, 

I  shall  be  noble 


DE  MAUPRAT. 

Away! 

FIRST    CONSPIRATOR. 

Five  thousand  crowns  ! 


OMNES. 

To  horse  !  to  horse ! 
\^Exeunt  conspirators. 


so  RiciirnEU ;  on,  [act  hi. 


SCENE  IV. 

Still  night.     A   room  in  the  house  of  Count  de  Baradas, 

lighted,  4'C. 

Orleans,  De  Beringhen. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

I  understand.     Mauprat  kept  guard  without : 
Knows  naught  of  the  desputcli,  but  heads  the  troop 
Whom  tlie  poor  cardinal  fancies  liis  protectors. 
Save  us  from  such  protection ! 

ORLEANS. 

Yet,  if  Huguet, 
By  whose  advice  and  proffers  we  renounced 
Our  earUer  scheme,  should  still  be  Richelieu's  minion. 
And  play  us  false — 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

The  fox  must  then  devour 
The  geese  he  gripes  (I'm  out  of  it,  thank  Heaven!), 
And  you  must  swear  )'ou  smelt  the  trick,  but  seem'd 
To  approve  the  deed — to  render  up  the  doers. 

Enter  Baradas. 

BARADAS. 

Juhe  is  fled :  the  king,  whom  now  I  left 

To  a  most  thorny  pillow,  vows  revenge 

On  her,  on  Mauprat,  and  on  Ricliclieu  !     Well ; 

We  loyal  men  anticipate  his  wish 

Upon  the  last ;  and  as  for  Mauprat — 

{Showing  a  writ.) 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Hum! 

They  say  the  devil  invented  printing !     Faith, 

He  has  some  hand  in  Avriting  parchment — eh,  count  ■? 

What  mischief  now  ' 

baradas. 

The  king,  at  .Julie's  flight 
Enraged,  will  brook  no  rival  in  a  subject ; 
So  on  this  old  offence,  the  affair  of  Faviaux, 
Ere  Mauprat  can  tell  tales  of  ux,  we  build 
His  bridge  between  the 


SCENE    IV.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  81 


ORLEANS. 

Dungeon  and  the  grave 
Well ;  if  our  courier  can  but  reach  the  army, 
The  cards  are  ours !  and  yet,  I  own,  I  tremble. 
Our  names  are  in  the  scroll :  discovery,  death ! 

BARADAS. 

Success,  a  crown ! 

DE  BERiNGHEN  {apart  to  Barados). 
Our  future  regent  is 
No  hero. 

BARADAS  (^0  De  Bevinghen). 
But  his  rank  makes  others  valiant ; 
And  on  his  cowardice  I  mount  to  power. 
Were  Orleans  regent,  what  were  Baradas  ] 
Oh !  by-the-way,  I  had  forgot,  your  highness, 
Friend  Huguet  whisper'd  me,  "Beware  of  Marion: 
I've  seen  her  lurking  near  the  cardinal's  palace." 
Upon  that  hint,  I've  found  her  lodgings  elsewhere. 

ORLEANS. 

You  wrong  her,  count :    Poor  Marion !  she  adores  me. 

BARADAS  {apologetically). 
Forgive  me,  but — 

Enter  Page. 

PAGE. 

My  lord,  a  rude,  strange  soldier, 
Breathless  with  haste,  demands  an  audience. 

BARADAS. 

So! 
The  archers  1 

PAGE. 

In  the  anteroom,  my  lord, 
As  you  desired. 

BARADAS. 

'Tis  well ;  admit  the  soldier. 

[Exit  Page. 
Huguet !  I  bade  him  seek  me  here  ! 


82  Richelieu;  or,  [act  hi. 

Enter  Huguet. 

HUGUET. 

My  lords, 
The  deed  is  done.     Now,  count,  fulfil  your  word, 
And  make  me  noble  ! 

BARADAS. 

Richelieu  dead  1  art  sure  ■? 
How  died  he  ? 

HUGUET. 

Strangled  in  his  sleep  :  no  blood, 
No  telltale  violence. 

BARADAS. 

Strangled  ]  monstrous  villain  ! 
Reward  for  murder !     Ho,  there ! 

{Stamping. 

Enter  Captani,  icithfivc  archers. 

HUGUET. 

No,  thou  durst  not ! 

BARADAS. 

Seize  on  the  ruffian ;  bind  him,  gag  him  !     Off 
To  the  Bastile ! 

HUGUET. 

Your  word,  your  plighted  faith  ! 

BARADAS. 

Insolent  liar !  ho,  away  ! 

HUGUET. 

Nay,  count ; 
I  have  that  about  me  which — 

BARADAS. 

Away  with  him ! 

Exeunt  Huguet  and  archers. 
Now,  then,  all's  safe  ;.  Huguet  must  die  in  prison. 
So  Mauprat :  coax  or  force  the  meaner  crew 
To  fly  the  country.     Hh,  ha  !  thus,  your  highness. 
Great  men  make  use  of  little  men. 


SCENE    IV.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  83 


DE    BERINGHEN. 

My  lords, 
Since  our  suspense  is  ended,  you'll  excuse  me ; 
'Tis  late,  and,  entre  nous,  I  have  not  supp'd  yet ! 
I'm  one  of  the  new  council  now,  remember  ; 
I  feel  the  public  stirring  here  already  ; 
A  very  craving  monster.     Au  revoir  ! 

[I^xit  De  Beringhen. 

ORLEANS. 

No  fear,  now  Richelieu's  dead. 

BARADAS. 

And  could  he  come 
To  lif :;  again,  he  could  not  keep  hfe's  life. 
His  power,  nor  save  De  Mauprat  from  the  scaffold, 
Nor  Julie  from  these  arms,  nor  Paris  from 
The  Spaniard,  nor  your  highness  from  the  throne ! 
All  ours !  all  ours  !  in  spite  of  my  lord  cardinal ! 

Enter  Page. 

PAGE. 

A  gentleman,  my  lord,  of  better  mien 
Than  he  who  last — 


BAUADAS. 

Well,  he  may  enter. 

ORLEANS. 

Who 


[Exit  Page. 


Can  this  be  •? 


BARADAS. 

One  of  the  conspirators  : 
Mauprat  himself,  perhaps. 

Enter  Franqois. 

FRANCOIS. 

My  lord— 

BARADAS. 

Ha,  traitor! 
In  Paris  still  ? 


84  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT    IV. 


FRANCOIS. 

The  packet,  the  despatch ; 
Some  knave  play'd  spy  without,  and  reft  it  from  me 
Ere  I  could  draw  my  sword. 

BARADAS. 

Play'd  spy  without ! 
Did  he  wear  armour  ? 

FRANCOIS. 

Ay,  from  head  to  heel. 

ORLEANS. 

One  of  our  band.    Oh,  heavens ! 

BARADAS. 

Could  it  be  Mauprat  *? 
Kept  guard  at  the  door ;  knew  naught  of  the  despatch; 
How  heT  and  yet,  who  other? 

FRANCOIS. 

Ha,  De  Mauprat ! 
The  night  was  dark,  his  visor  closed. 

BARADAS. 

'Twas  he ! 
How  could  he  guess?  'sdcath!  if  he  should  betray  us. 
His  hate  to  Richelieu  dies  with  Richelieu ;  and 
He  was  not  great  enough  for  treason.     Hence  ! 
Find  Mauprat ;  beg,  steal,  filch,  or  force  it  back, 
Or,  as  I  live,  the  halter — 

FRANCOIS. 

By  the  morrow 
I  will  regain  it  (aside),  and  redeem  my  honour ! 

[Exit  Francois. 

ORLEANS. 

Oh !  we  are  lost — 

BARADAS. 

Not  so !     But  cause  on  cause 
For  Mauprat's  seizure,  silence,  death !    Take  courage. 

ORLEANS. 

Should  it  once  reach  the  king,  the  cardinal's  arm 
Could  smite  us  from  the  grave. 


ACT    IV.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  85 


BAR ADAS. 

Sir,  think  it  not ! 
I  hold  De  Mauprat  in  my  grasp.     To-morrow, 
And  France  is  ours !     Thou  dark  and  fallen  angel, 
Whose  name  on  earth's  Ambition;  thou  that  niak'st 
Thy  throne  on  treasons,  stratagems,  and  murder. 
And  with  thy  tierce  and  blood-red  smile  canst  quench 
The  guiding  stars  of  solemn  empire,  hear  us 
(For  we  are  thine),  and  light  us  to  the  goal ! 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE    I. 

The  Gardens  of  the  Louvre.     Orleans,  Baradas,  De  Ber- 
inghen,  Courtiers,  <Sfc. 

ORLEANS. 

How  does  my  brother  bear  the  cardinal's  death  ? 

BARADAS. 

With  grief,  when  thinking  of  the  toils  of  state ; 
With  joy,  when  thinking  on  the  eyes  of  Julie  : 
At  times  he  sighs,  "  Who  now  shall  govern  France  ■?" 
Anon  exclaims,  "  Who  now  shall  baffle  Louis  ■?" 

{Enter  Louis  and  other  courtiers.     They  uncover.) 

ORLEANS. 

Now,  my  liege,  now  I  can  embrace  a  brother. 

LOUIS. 

Dear  Gaston,  yes.    I  do  believe  you  love  me ; 

Richelieu  denied  it,  sever'd  us  too  long. 

A  great  man,  Gaston !    Who  shall  govern  France  ? 

EARADAS. 

Yourself,  my  liege.     That  swart  and  potent  star 
Eclipsed  your  royal  orb.     He  served  the  country, 
But  did  he  serve  or  seek  to  sway  the  king  ? 


86  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  IV. 


LOUIS. 

You're  right ;  he  was  an  able  pohtician,* 
[That's  all :  between  ourselves,  count,  I  suspect 
The  largeness  of  his  learning,  specially 
In  falcons  ;t  a  poor  huntsman,  too ! 

BARADAS. 

Ha!  ha! 
Your  majesty  remembers — 

LOUIS. 

Ay,  the  blunder 
Between  the  greffier  and  the  souillard  when — 

{Checks  and  crosses  himself). 
Alas  !  poor  sinners  that  we  are  !  we  laugh 
While  this  great  man,  a  priest,  a  cardinal, 
A  faithful  servant — out  upon  us ! 

BARADAS. 

Sire, 
If  my  brow  wear  no  cloud,  His  that  the  cardinal 
No  longer  shades  the  king. 

LOUIS  {looking  up  at  the  skies). 

Oh,  Baradas ! 
Ami  not  to  be  pitied  1  what  a  day 
For— 

*  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  representation. 

+  Louis  XIII.  is  said  to  have  possessed  some  natural  talents,  and 
in  earlier  youth  to  have  exhibited  the  germes  of  noble  qualities  ;  but 
a  blight  seems  to  have  passed  over  his  maturer  life.  Personally 
brave,  but  morally  timid ;  always  governed,  whether  by  his  mother 
or  his  minister,  and  always  repining  at  the  yoke.  The  only  affec- 
tion atnountmg  to  a  passion  that  he  betrayed  was  for  the  sports  of 
the  field ;  yet  it  was  his  craving  weakness  (and  this  throws  a  kind 
of  false  interest  over  his  character)  to  wish  to  be  loved.  He  him- 
self loved  no  one.  He  suffered  the  only  woman  who  seems  to  have 
been  attached  to  him  to  wither  in  a  convent;  he  gave  up  favourite 
after  favourite  to  exile  or  the  block.  When  Richelieu  died,  he  said 
coldly,  "  Voila  un  grand  politique  mort !"  and  when  the  ill-fated  but 
unprincipled  Cinq  Mars,  whom  he  called  le  cher  ami,  was  beheaded, 
he  drew  out  his  watch  at  the  fatal  hour,  and  said  with  a  smile,  "  I 
think  at  this  moment  that  le  cher  ami  fait  une  vilaine  mine."  Never- 
theless, his  conscience  at  times  (for  he  was  devout  and  superstitious) 
made  him  gentle,  and  his  pride  and  his  honour  would  often,  when 
least  expected,  rouse  him  into  haughty  but  brief  resistance  to  the 
despotism  under  which  he  lived. 


SCENE    IV.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  87 


BARADAS. 

Sorrow  1    No,  sire  ! 

LOUIS. 

Bah !  for  hmdi?ig,  man. 
And  Richelieu's  dead ;  'twould  be  an  indecorum 
Till  he  is  buried;  {yaivns)  life  is  very  tedious. 
I  made  a  madrigal  on  life  last  week  : 
You  do  not  sing,*  count  ?     Pity  ;  you  should  learn. 
Poor  Richelieu  had  no  ear,  yet  a  great  man. 
Ah  !  what  a  weary  weight  devolves  upon  me  ! 
These  endless  wars,  these  thankless  parliaments, 
The  snares  in  which  he  tangled  states  and  kings, 
Like  the  old  fisher  of  the  fable,  Proteus, 
Netting  great  Neptune's  wariest  tribes,  and  changing 
Into  all  shapes  when  craft  pursued  himself : 
Oh,  a  great  man  ! 

BARADAS. 

Your  royal  mother  said  so, 
And  died  in  exile. 

LOUIS  {sadly). 
True  :  I  loved  my  mother  \\ 

BARADAS. 

The  cardinal  dies.     Yet  day  revives  the  earth ; 
The  rivers  run  not  back.     In  truth,  my  liege, 
Did  your  high  orb  on  others  shine  as  him. 
Why,  things  as  dull  in  their  own  selves  as  I  am 
Would  glow  as  brightly  with  the  borrow'd  beam.J 

*  Louis  had  some  musical  taste  and  accomplishment,  wherewith 
he  often  communicated  to  his  favourites  some  of  that  wearisome 
ennui  under  which  he  himself  almost  unceasingly  languished. 

t  One  of  Louis's  most  bitter  complaints  against  Richelieu  was  the 
continued  banishment  of  the  queen  mother.  It  is  impossible,  how- 
ever, not  to  be  convinced  that  the  return  of  that  most  worthless  in- 
triguante was  wholly  incompatible  with  the  tranquillity  of  the  king- 
dom. Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  poverty  and  privation  which  she 
endured  in  exile  are  discreditable  to  the  generosity  and  the  grati- 
tude of  Richelieu ;  she  was  his  first  patron,  though  afterward  his 
most  powerful  persecutor. 

X  In  his  Memoirs,  Richelieu  gives  an  amusing  account  of  the  in- 
solence and  arts  of  Baradas,  and  observes,  with  indignant  astonish- 
ment, that  the  favourite  was  never  weary  of  repeating  to  the  king 
that  he  (Baradas)  would  have  made  just  as  great  a  minister  as 


88  RICHELIEU  ;    OK,  [aCT  IV. 

LOUIS. 

Ahem  !    He  was  too  stern. 

ORLEANS. 

A  very  Nero. 

BARADAS. 

His  power  was  like  the  capitol  of  old — 
Built  on  a  human  scull. 

LOUIS. 

And,  had  he  hved, 
I  know  another  head,  my  Baradas, 
That  would  have  propp'd  the  pile  :  I've  seen  him  eye 

thee 
With  a  most  hungry  fancy. 

BARADAS  (anxiously). 
Sire,  I  knew 
You  would  protect  me, 

LOUIS. 

Did  you  so  1  of  course  I 
And  yet  he  had  a  way  with  him,  a  something 
That  always — But  no  matter,  he  is  dead. 
And,  after  all,  men  calFd  his  king  "  The  Just,"* 
And  so  I  am.     Dear  count,  this  silliest  Julie, 
I  know  not  why,  she  takes  my  fancy.     Many 
As  fair,  and  certainly  more  kind  ;  but  yet 
It  is  so.     Count,  I  am  no  lustful  Tarquin, 
And  do  abhor  the  bold  and  frontless  vices 
Which  the  church  justly  censures  ;  yet,  'tis  sad 
On  rainy  days  to  drag  out  weary  hours,! 

Richelieu.  It  is  on  the  attachment  of  Baradas  to  La  Cressias,  a 
maid  of  honour  to  the  queen  mother,  of  whom,  according  to  Bara- 
das, the  king  was  enamoured  also,  that  his  love  for  the  Julie  de 
Mortemar  of  the  jjlay  Iras  been  founded.  The  secret  of  Baradas' 
sudden  and  extraordinary  influence  with  the  king  seems  to  rest  in 
the  personal  adoration  which  he  professed  for  Louis,  with  whom  he 
afl'ecled  all  the  jealousy  of  a  lover,  but  whom  he  flattered  with  the 
ardent  chivalry  of  a  knight.  Even  after  his  disgrace  he  placed 
upon  his  banner,  "  Fiat  voluntas  tua." 

*  Louis  was  called  'I'he  Just,  but  for  no  other  reason  than  that  he 
was  born  under  the  Libra. 

t  Louis  XUI.  did  not  resemble  either  his  father  or  his  son  in  the 
ardour  of  his  attachments  ;  if  not  wholly  platonic,  they  were  wholly 
uniiiipassioned  ;  yet  no  man  was  more  jealous,  or  more  unscrupu- 
lously tyrannical  when  the  jealousy  was  aroused. 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  89 

Deaf  to  the  music  of  a  woman's  voice, 
Blind  to  the  sunshine  of  a  woman's  eyes. 
It  is  no  sin  in  kings  to  seek  amusement ; 
And  that  is  all  I  seek.     I  miss  her  much ; 
She  has  a  silver  laugh :  a  rare  perfection. 

BARADAS. 

Richelieu  was  most  disloyal  in  that  marriage.] 

LOUIS  (queruloushj). 
He  knew  that  Julie  pleased  me  :  a  clear  proof 
He  never  loved  me  ! 

BARADAS. 

Oh,  most  clear !     But  now 
No  bar  between  the  lady  and  your  will ! 
This  writ  makes  all  secure  ;  a  week  or  two 
In  the  Bastile  will  sober  Mauprat's  love, 
And  leave  him  eager  to  dissolve  a  hymen 
That  brings  him  such  a  home. 

LOUIS. 

See  to  it,  count ; 

{Exit  Baradas.) 
I'll  summon  Julie  back.    A  word  with  you. 

{Takes  aside  first  courtier  and  De  Beringhen,  and 
passes,  conversing  with  them,  through  the  gardens.) 

Enter  Franqois. 

FRANCOIS. 

All  search,  as  yet,  in  vain  for  Mauprat !     Not 
At  home  since  yesternoon  ;  a  soldier  told  me 
He  saw  him  pass  this  way  with  hasty  strides  ; 
Should  he  meet  Baradas,  they'd  rend  it  from  him, 
And  then— benignant  Fortune  smiles  upon  me — 
I  am  thy  son  !     If  thou  desert'st  me  now. 
Come,  Death,  and  snatch  me  from  disgrace.     But,  no, 
There's  a  great  spirit  ever  in  the  air 
That  from  prolific  and  far-spreading  wings 
Scatters  the  seeds  of  honour  ;  yea,  the  walls 
And  moats  of  castled  forts,  the  barren  seas, 
The  cell  wherein  the  pale-eyed  student  holds 
Talk  with  melodious  science,  all  are  sown 
With  everlasting  honours,  if  our  souls 
Will  toil  for  fame  as  boors^  for  bread— 

-    Hs 


90  Richelieu;  or,  [act  iv. 


Enter  Mauprat. 

MAUPRAT. 

Oh,  let  me — 
Let  me  but  meet  him  foot  to  foot,  Til  dig 
The  Judas  from  his  heart  ;  albeit  the  king 
Should  o'er  him  cast  the  purple ! 

^  FRANCOIS. 

Mauprat !  hold: 
Where  is  the — 

MAUPRAT. 

Well !  what  wouldst  thou  T 

FRANCOIS. 

The  despatch ! 
The  packet.     Look  on  me  ;  I  serve  the  cardinal ; 
You  know  me.     Did  you  not  keep  guard  last  night 
By  Marion's  house  ■? 

MAUPRAT. 

I  did  :  no  matter  now ! 
They  told  me  he  was  here  I 

FRANCOIS. 

Oh  joy  !  quick,  quick  ; 
The  packet  thou  didst  wrest  from  me  ? 

MAUPRAT. 

The  packet  ? 
What,  art  thou  he  I  deem'd  the  cardinal's  spy 
(Dupe  that  I  was),  and  overhearing  Marion— 

FRANCOIS. 

The  same ;  restore  it  L  haste ! 

MAUPRAT. 

I  have  it  not : 
Methought  it  but  reveal'd  our  scheme  to  Richelieu, 
And,  as  we  mounted,  gave  it  to — 

Enter  Baradas. 

BARADAS. 

stand  back ! 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  91 

Now,  villain !  now  I  have  thee ! 

(To  Franqois.)     Hence,  sir !  Draw; / 

FRANCOIS. 

Art  mad  ?  the  king's  at  hand  !  leave  him  to  Richelieu  ! 
Speak,  the  despatch — to  whom — 

MAUPRAT  {dashing  him  aside  and  rushing  to  Baradas). 

Thou  triple  slanderer ! 
I'll  set  my  heel  upon  thy  crest ! 

{A  few  passes.) 

FRANCOIS. 

Fly,  fly  ! 
The  king ! 

Enter  at  one  side  Louis,  Orleans,  De  Beringhen,  courtiers, 
<!fc.  ;  at  the  other,  the  guards  hastily. 

LOUIS. 

Swords  drawn — before  our  very  palace  ! 
Have  our  laws  died  with  Richelieu  ^ 

BARADAS. 

Pardon,  sire, 
My  crime  but  self-defence.*     {Aside  to  king)  It  is  De 
Mauprat ! 

LOUIS. 

Dare  he  thus  brave  us  '\ 

{Baradas  goes  to  the  guard  and  gives  the  writ.) 

MAUPRAT. 

Sire,  in  the  cardinal's  name — 

BARADAS. 

Seize  him — disarm — to  the  Bastile  ! 

{De  Mauprat  seized,  struggles  with  the  guard — Fran- 

*  One  of  Richelieu's  severest  and  least  political  laws  was  that 
w^hich  made  duelling  a  capital  crime.  Never  was  the  punishment 
against  the  offence  more  relentlessly  enforced,  and  never  were  duels 
so  desperate  and  so  numerous.  The  punishment  of  death  must  be 
evidently  ineffectual  so  long  as  to  refuse  a  duel  is  to  be  dishonoured, 
and  so  long  as  men  hold  the  doctrine,  however  wrong,  that  it  is  bet- 
ter to  part  with  the  life  that  Heaven  gave  than  the  honour  man 
makes.  In  fact,  the  greater  the  danger  he  mcurred,  the  greater  was 
the  punctilio  of  the  cavalier  of  that  time  in  braving  it. 


92  RICHELIEU;    OR,  [act   IV. 

^ois  restlessly  endeavouring  to  pacify  and  speak  to 
him — tvhen  the  gates  open.  Enter  Richelieu — Jo- 
seph— 'followed  hy  arquehusiers.) 

BAKADAS. 

The  dead 
Return'd  to  life ! 

LOUTS. 

What  a  mock  death !  this  tops 
The  infinite  of  insult. 

DE  MAUPRAT  {breaking  from  the  guards). 
Priest  and  hero  ! — 
For  you  are  both — protect  the  truth ! 

RICHELIEU  {taking  the  writ  from  the  guard). 

What's  this  1 

DE  BERINGHEN. 

Fact  in  philosophy.     Foxes  have  got 
Nine  Uves  as  well  as  cats ! 

BARADAS. 

Be  firm,  my  liege. 

LOUIS. 

I  have  assumed  the  sceptre ;  I  will  yield  it ! 

JOSEPH. 

The  tide  runs  counter;  there'll  be  shipwreck  some- 
where. 

{Baradas  and  Orleans  keep  close  to  the  king,  ivhisper- 
ing  and  prompting  him  when  Richelieu  speaks.) 

RICHELIEU. 

High  treason — Faviaux !  still  that  stale  pretence  ! 
My  liege,  bad  men  (ay,  count,  most  knavish  men!) 
Abuse  your  royal  goodness.     For  this  soldier, 
France  hath  none  braver  ;  and  his  youth's  hot  folly. 
Misled  (by  whom,  your  highness  may  conjecture  !), 
Is  long  since  canceU'd  by  a  loyal  manhood. 
I,  sire,  have  pardon'd  him. 

Lot  IS. 

And  we  do  give 
Your  pardon  to  the  winds.    Sir,  do  your  dutv ! 


SCENE    1.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  93 


RICHELIEU. 

What,  sire  ?  you  do  not  know — oh  pardon  me — 
You  know  not  yet,  that  this  brave,  honest  heart 
Stood  between  mine  and  murder!     Sire!  for  my  sake, 
For  your  old  servant's  sake,  undo  this  wrong. 
See,  let  me  rend  the  sentence. 

LOUIS. 

At  your  peril ! 
This  is  too  much.     Again,  sir,  do  your  duty  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Speak  not,  but  go  :  I  would  not  see  young  Valour 
So  humbled  as  gray  Service  ! 

DE   MAUPRAT. 

Fare  you  well ! 
Save  Julie,  and  console  her. 

FRANCOIS  {aside  to  Mauprat). 

The  despatch ! 
Your  fate,  foes,  life,  hang  on  a  word !  to  whom  ? 


DE    MAUPRAT. 


To  Huguet. 


FRANCOIS. 

Hush,  keep  council !  silence — hope  ! 

{Exeunt  Mauprat  and  guard.) 

BARADAS  {aside  to  Franqois). 
Has  he  the  packet  1 

FRANCOIS. 

He  will  not  reveal. 
{Aside)  Work,  brain !    beat,  heart !     "  There's  no  such 
word  as  fail y 

{Exit  Franqois.) 

RICHELIEU  {fiercely). 
Room,  my  lords,  room  !     The  minister  of  France 
Can  need  no  intercession  with  the  king. 

{They  fall  back.) 

LOUIS. 

What  means  this  false  report  of  death,  lord  cardinaU 


94  RICHELIEU;  OR,  [act  IV. 

RICHELIEU. 

Are  you  then  anger'd,  sire,  that  I  live  still  T 

LOUIS. 

No ;  but  such  artifice — 

RICHELIEU. 

Not  mine  :  look  elsewhere ! 
Louis,  my  castle  swann'd  with  the  assassins. 

BARADAS  (advancing). 

We  have  punish'd  them  already.  Huguet  now 
In  the  Bastile.  Oh !  my  lord,  ive  were  prompt 
To  avenge  you — we  were — 

RICHELIEU. 

We  1  Ha !  ha !  you  hear, 
My  liege  !  What  page,  man,  in  the  last  court  grammar 
Made  you  a  plural  1  Count,  you  have  seized  the  hireling  : 
Sire,  shall  I  name  the  master ! 

LOUIS. 

Tush !  my  lord, 
The  old  contrivance :  ever  does  your  wit 
InveiiL  assassins,  that  ambition  may 
Slay  rivals — 

RICHELIEU. 

Rivals,  sire  !  in  what  ^ 
Service  to  France  1     I  have  none !    Lives  the  man 
Whom  Europe,  paled  before  your  glory,  deems 
Rival  to  Armand  Richelieu  1 

LOUIS. 

What,  so  haughty ! 
Remember,  he  who  made  can  unmake. 

RICHELIEU. 

Never ! 
Never !    Your  anger  can  recall  your  trust. 
Annul  me  of  my  office,  spoil  me  of  my  lands, 
Rifle  my  coffers ;  but  my  name,  my  deeds. 
Are  royal  in  a  land  beyond  your  sceptre  ! 
Pass  sentence  on  me  if  you  will ;  from  kings, 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  95 

Lo,  I  appeal  to  lime  !    *  [Be  just,  my  liege ; 
I  found  your  kingdom  rent  with  heresies 
And  bristling  with  rebellion  ;  lawless  nobles 
And  breadless  serfs  ;  England  fomentnig  discord  ; 
Austria,  her  clutch  on  your  dominion  ;  Spain 
Forging  the  prodigal  gold  of  either  Ind 
To  armed  thunderbolts.     The  arts  lay  dead, 
Trade  rotted  in  your  marts,  your  armies  mutinous, 
Your  treasury  bankrupt.     Would  you  now  revoke 
Your  trust,  so  be  it !  and  I  leave  you  sole, 
Supreme  monarch  of  the  mightiest  realm, 
From  Ganges  to  the  Icebergs.     Look  without ; 
No  foe  not  humbled !     Look  within ;  the  arts 
Quit  for  your  schools ;  their  old  Hesperides 
The  golden  Italy  !  while  throughout  the  veins 
Of  your  vast  empire  flows  in  strengthening  tides 
Trade,  the  calm  health  of  nations ! 

Sire,  I  know 
Your  smoother  courtiers  please  you  best,  nor  measure 
Myself  with  them ;  yet  sometimes  I  would  doubt 
If  statesmen  rock'd  and  dandled  into  power 
Could  leave  such  legacies  to  kings  ! 

{Louis  appears  irresolute,') 

BARADAS  {passing  him,  lohispers). 
But  Julie, 
Shall  I  not  summon  her  lo  court.] 

LOUIS  {motions  to  Baradas  and  turns  haughtily  to  the 
cardinal) » 

Enough ! 
Your  eminence  must  excuse  a  longer  audience. 
To  your  own  palace.     For  our  conference,  this 
Nor  place  nor  season. 

RICHELIEU. 

Good,  my  liege  ;  for  Justice, 
All  place  a  temple,  and  all  season,  summer ! 
Do  you  deny  me  justice  1     Saints  of  heaven ! 
He  turns  from  me !     Do  yon  deny  me  justice  ? 
For  fifteen  years,  while  in  these  hands  dwelt  empire, 
The  humblest  craftsman,  the  obscurest  vassal. 
The  very  leper  shrinking  from  the  sun. 
Though  loathed  by  charity,  might  ask  for  justice ! 
*  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  representation. 


96  RICHELIEU ;  or,  [act  iv. 

Not  with  the  fawning  tone  and  crawling  mien 

Of  some  I  see  around  you — counts  and  princes — 

Kneeling  for  favours ;  but,  erect  and  loud, 

As  men  who  ask  man's  rights  !  my  liege,  my  Louis, 

Do  you  refuse  me  justice,  audience  even, 

In  the  pale  presence  of  the  baffled  murther?* 

LOUIS. 

Lord  cardinal,  one  by  one  you  have  sever'd  from  me 
The  bonds  of  human  love.     All  near  and  dear 
Mark'd  out  for  vengeance,  exile  or  the  scaffold. 
You  find  me  now  amid  my  trustiest  friends, 
My  closest  kindred  ;  you  would  tear  them  from  me ; 
They  murder  you  forsooth,  since  me  they  love. 
Enough  of  plots  and  treasons  for  one  reign ! 
Home !  home !  and  sleep  away  these  phantoms ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Sire ! 
I — patience,  Heaven!  sweet  Heaven! — sire,  from  the 

foot 
Of  that  Great  Throne,  these  hands  have  raised  aloft 
On  an  Olymyus,  looking  down  on  mortals 
And  vvorshipp'd  by  their  awe — before  the  foot 
Of  that  high  throne,  spurn  you  the  gray-hair'd  man 
Who  gave  you  empire,  and  now  sues  for  safety  ■? 

LOUIS. 

No  :  when  we  see  your  eminence  in  truth 
At  the  foot  of  the  throne,  we'll  listen  to  you. 

[Exit  Louis. 

ORLEANS. 

Saved ! 

BARADAS. 

For  this,  deep  thanks  to  Julie  and  to  Mauprat ! 

RICHELIEU. 

My  Lord  de  Baradas,  I  pray  your  pardon ; 
You  are  to  be  my  successor !  your  hand,  sir ! 

*  For  the  haughty  and  rebuking  tone  which  Richeheu  as.sumed 
in  his  expostulations  with  the  king,  see  his  memoirs  (passim)  in 
Petitot's  collection,  vols,  xxii.-xxx.  (bis).  Montesquieu,  in  one  of 
his  brilliant  antitheses,  says  well  of  Richelieu,  "  II  avila  le  roi,mais 
il  illustra  le  r^gne." 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  97 

BARADAS  (aside). 
What  can  this  mean  1 

RICHELIEU. 

It  trembles,  see  !  it  trembles  ! 
The  hand  that  holds  the  destinies  of  nations 
Ought  to  shake  less  !  ^  Poor  Baradas !  poor  France  ! 

BARADAS. 

Insolent — 

[Exeunt  Baradas  and  Orleans. 


SCENE  II. 

RICHELIEU. 

Joseph,  did  you  hear  the  king  I 

JOSEPH. 

I  did  ;  there's  danger  !     Had  you  been  less  haughty* — 

RICHELIEU. 

And  suffer'd  slaves  to  chuckle,  "  see  the  cardinal ; 
How  meek  his  eminence  is  to-day :"  I  tell  thee 
This  is  a  strife  in  which  the  loftiest  look 
Is  the  most  subtle  armour — 

JOSEPH. 

But— 

RICHELIEU. 

No  time 
For  ifs  and  buts.     I  will  accuse  these  traitors ! 
FranQois  shall  witness  that  De  Baradas 

*  However  "  orgueilleux''^  and  "  colere"  in  his  disputes  with  Louis, 
the  cardinal  did  not  always  disdain  recourse  to  the  arts  of  the  cour- 
tier ;  once,  after  an  angry  discussion  with  the  king,  in  which,  as  usu- 
al, Richeheu  got  the  better,  Louis,  as  they  quitted  the  palace  togeth- 
er, said  rudely,  "  Sortez  le  premier;  vous  ^tes  bien  le  roi  de 
France."  "  Si  je  passe  le  premier,"  replied  the  minister,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  and  with  great  adroitness,  "  ce  ne  pent  ^tre 
que  comme  le  plus  humble  de  vos  serviteurs  ;"  and  he  took  a  flam- 
beau from  one  of  the  pages,  to  light  the  king  as  he  walked  before 
him,  "  en  recultant  et  sans  touruer  le  dos." 

I 


98  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [act  IV. 

Gave  him  the  secret  missive  for  De  Bouillon, 
And  told  him  life  and  death  were  in  the  scroll. 
I  will,  I  will — 

JOSEPH. 

Tush !  Franr^ois  is  your  creature  ; 
So  they  will  say,  and  laugh  at  you  !     Your  witness 
Must  be  that  same  despatch. 

RICHELIEU. 

Away  to  Marion ! 

JOSEPH. 

I  have  been  there  ;  she  is  seized,  removed,  imprison'd, 
By  the  count's  orders. 

RICHELIEU. 

Goddess  of  bright  dreams, 
My  country,  shalt  thou  lose  me  now,  when  most 
Thou  needst  thy  worshipper  ■?     My  native  land ! 
Let  me  but  ward  this  dagger  from  thy  heart. 
And  die — but  on  thy  bosom ! 

Enter  Julie. 

JULIE. 

Heaven  !  I  thank  thee ! 
It  cannot  be,  or  this  all-powerful  man 
Would  not  stand  idly  thus. 

RICHELIEU. 

What  dost  thou  here  ? 
Home! 

JULIE. 

Home !  is  Adricn  there  ?  you're  dumb,  yet  strive 
For  words  ;  I  see  them  trembling  on  your  lip. 
But  choked  by  pity.     It  was  truth,  all  truth ! 
Seized — the  Bastile — and  in  your  presence  too ! 
Cardinal,  where  is  Adrien  1     Think,  he  saved 
Your  life  :  your  name  is  infamy,  if  wrong 
Should  come  to  his ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Be  sooth'd,  child. 

JULIE. 

Child  no  more ; 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACV.  99 

I  love,  and  I  am  woman  !    Hope  and  suffer — 

Love,  suftering,  hope — what  else  doth  make  the  strength 

And  majesty  of  woman?     Where  is  Adrien'? 

RICHELIEU    to    JOSEPH- 

Your  youth  was  never  young ;  you  never  loved : 
Speak  to  her — 

JOSEPH. 

Nay,  take  heed ;  the  king's  command, 
'Tis  true — I  mean — the — 

JULIE    to    RICHELIEU. 

Let  thine  eyes  meet  mine  ; 
Answer  me  but  one  word — I  am  a  wife  — 
I  ask  thee  for  my  home,  my  fate,  my  all  ! 
Wliere  is  my  husband  1 

RICHELIEU. 

You  are  Richelieu's  ward, 
A  soldier's  bride  :  they  who  insist  on  truth 
Must  out-face  fear ;  you  ask  me  for  your  husband  ? 
There,  where  tlie  clouds  of  heaven  look  darkest,  o'er 
The  domes  of  the  Bastile  ! 

JULIE. 

I  thank  you,  father ; 
You  see  I  do  not  shudder.     Heaven  forgive  you 
The  sin  of  this  desertion  ! 

RICHELIEU  {detaining  her). 
Whither  wouldst  thou  1 

JULIE. 

Stay  me  not.     Fy !  I  should  be  there  already. 
I  am  thy  ward,  and  haply  he  may  think 
Thou'st  taught  me  also  to  forsake  the  wretched  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

I've  fill'd  those  cells  with  many,  traitors  all. 
Had  they  wives  tool     Thy  memories,  Power,  are  sol- 
emn! 
Poor  sufferer !  think'st  thou  that  yon  gates  of  wo 
Unbar  to  love  1     Alas,  if  love  once  enter, 
'Tis  for  the  last  farewell ;  between  those  walls 
And  the  mute  grave,*  the  blessed  household  sounds 

*  Selon  I'usage  de  Louis  XIII.,  faire  arr^ter^quelqu'un  pour  crime 
d'etat,  et  le  faire  mourir,  I'etait  a  peu  prfes  le  meme  chose.— ie  Clerc. 


100  Richelieu;  or,  [act  iv. 

Only  heard  once,  while,  hungering  at  the  door, 
The  headsman  whets  the  axe. 

JULIE. 

Oh,  mercy  !  mercy ! 
Save  him,  restore  him,  father  !     Art  thou  not 
The  cardinal-king  1  the  lord  of  life  and  death. 
Beneath  whose  light,  as  deeps  beneath  the  moon. 
The  solemn  tides  of  empire  ebb  and  flow  1 
Art  thou  not  Richeheu"! 

RICHELIEU. 

Yesterday  I  was ! 
To-day,  a  veiy  weak  old  man  !     To-morrow, 
I  know  not  what ! 

JULIE. 

Do  you  conceive  his  meaning  ? 
Alas  !  I  cannot.     But  metliinks  my  senses 
Are  duller  than  they  were  ! 

JOSEPH. 

The  king  is  chafed 
Against  his  servant.     Lady,  while  we  speak. 
The  lackey  of  the  anteroom  is  not 
More  powerless  than  the  Minister  of  France. 

RICHELIEU. 

And  yet  the  air  is  still ;  Heaven  wears  no  cloud  ;* 

[From  Nature's  silent  orbit  starts  no  portent 

To  warn  the  unconscious  world  ;  albeit,  this  night 

May  with  a  morrow  teem,  which,  in  my  fall. 

Would  carry  earthquake  to  remotest  lands. 

And  change  the  Christian  globe.     What  wouldst  thou, 

woman  ! 
Thy  fate  and  his,  with  mine,  for  good  or  ill, 
Are  woven  threads.     In  my  vast  sum  of  hfe 
Millions  such  units  merge.] 

Enter  First  Courtier. 

nRST    COURTIER. 

Madame  de  Mauprat ! 
Pardon,  your  eminence  ;  even  now  I  seek 
This  lady's  home,  commanded  by  the  king 
To  pray  her  presence. 

*  That  in  brackets  omitted  in  representation. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  101 


JULiR  (clinging  to  Richelieu). 

Think  of  my  dead  father ! 
Think,  how,  an  infant,  chnging  to  your  knees 
And  looking  to  your  eyes,  the  wrinkled  care 
Fled  from  your  brow  before  the  smile  of  childhood, 
Fresh  from  the  dews  of  heaven  !     Think  of  this. 
And  take  me  to  your  breast. 

RICHELIEU. 

To  those  who  sent  you ! 
And  say  you  found  the  virtue  they  would  slay 
Here,  couch'd  upon  this  heart,  as  at  an  altar, 
And  shelter'd  by  the  wings  of  sacred  Rome  ! 
Begone ! 

FIRST    COURTIER. 

My  lord,  I  am  your  friend  and  servant ; 
Misjudge  me  not ;  but  never  yet  was  Louis 
So  roused  against  you  :  shall  I  take  this  answer  ? 
It  were  to  be  your  foe. 

RICHELIEU. 

All  time  my  foe, 
If  I,  a  priest,  could  cast  this  holy  sorrow 
Forth  from  her  last  asylum ! 

FIRST    COURTIER. 

He  is  lost ! 

(Exit  First  Courtier.) 

RICHELIEU. 

God  help  thee,  child !  she  hears  not !     Look  upon  her ! 
The  storm  that  rends  the  oak,  uproots  the  flower. 
Her  father  loved  me  !  and  in  that  age 
When  friends  are  brothers  !     She  has  been  to  me 
Soother,  nurse,  plaything,  daughter.    Are  these  tears  ■?* 
Oh !  shame,  shame  !  dotage  ! 

*  Like  Cromwell  and  Rienzi,  Richelieu  appears  to  have  been 
easily  moved  to  tears.  The  queen  mother,  who  put  the  hardest  in- 
terpretation on  that  humane  weakness,  which  is  natural  with  very 
excitable  temperaments,  said  that  "  II  pleurait  quand  il  voulait."  I 
may  add,  to  those  who  may  be  inclined  to  imagme  that  Richelieu 
appears  m  parts  of  this  scene  too  dejected  for  consistency  with  so 
imperious  a  character,  that  it  is  recorded  of  him  that  "  quand  ses  af- 
faires ne  reuississoient  pas,  il  se  trouvoit  abattu  et  epouvante,  et 
quand  il  obtenoit  ce  qu'il  souhaitoit,  il  6toit  fi6r  et  insultant." 

12 


102  RICHELIEU;  or,  [act  iv. 


JOSEPH. 

Tears  are  not  for  eyes 
That  rather  need  the  lightning,  which  can  pierce 
Through  barred  gates  and  triple  walls,  to  smite 
Crime,  where  it  cowers  in  secret !     The  despatch! 
Set  every  spy  to  work  ;  the  morrow's  sun 
Must  see  that  written  treason  in  your  hands, 
Or  rise  upon  your  ruin. 

RICHELIEU. 

Ay,  and  close 
Upon  my  corpse  !     I  am  not  made  to  live  ; 
Friends,  glory,  P^rance,  all  reft  from  me ;  my  star, 
Like  some  vain  holyday  mimicry  of  fire. 
Piercing  imperial  heaven,  and  falling  down, 
Rayless  and  blacken'd,  to  the  dust,  a  thing 
For  all  men's  feet  to  trample!     Yea!  to-morrow, 
Triumph  or  death  !    Look  up,  child !    Lead  us,  Joseph. 

As  they  are  going  out,  enter  Baradas  and  De  Beringhen. 

BARADAS. 

My  lord,  the  king  cannot  believe  your  eminence 
So  far  forgets  your  duty  and  his  greatness 
As  to  resist  his  mandate  !     Pray  you,  madam, 
Obey  the  king ;  no  cause  for  fear! 

JULIE. 

My  father ! 

RICHELIEU. 

She  shall  not  stir ! 


An  orphan — 


BARADAS. 

You  are  not  of  her  kindred  ; 


RICHELIEU. 

And  her  country  is  her  mother ! 

BARADAS. 

The  country  is  the  king ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Ay,  is  it  so  ? 
Then  wakes  the  power  which  in  the  age  of  iron 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  103 

Burst  forth  to  curb  the  great  and  raise  the  low. 

Mark  where  she  stands !  around  her  form  I  draw 

The  awful  circle  of  our  solemn  church  ! 

Set  but  a  foot  within  that  holy  ground, 

And  on  thy  head — yea,  though  it  wore  a  crown — 

I  launch  the  curse  of  Rome  ! 

BABADAS. 

I  dare  not  brave  you ! 
I  do  but  speak  the  orders  of  my  king. 
The  church,  your  rank,  power,  very  word,  my  lord, 
Suffice  you  for  resistance  :  blame  yourself 
If  it  should  cost  you  power  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

That  my  stake.     Ah ! 
Dark  gamester !  what  is  thine  1     Look  to  it  well ! 
Lose  not  a  trick.     By  this  same  hour  to-morrow 
Thou  shalt  have  France,  or  I  thy  head ! 

BARADAs  {aside  to  De  Beringhen). 

He  cannot 
Have  the  despatch  ? 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

No  :  were  it  so,  your  stake 
Were  lost  already. 

JOSEPH  (aside). 

Patience  is  your  game ! 
Reflect  you  have  not  the  despatch  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Oh !  monk ! 
Leave  patience  to  the  saints,  for  I  am  human ! 
Did  not  thy  father  die  for  France,  poor  orphan'? 
And  now  they  say  thou  hast  no  father  !     Fy ! 
Art  thou  not  pure  and  good ']  if  so,  thou  art 
A  part  of  that — the  beautiful,  the  sacred — 
Which  in  all  climes  men  that  have  hearts  adore, 
By  the  great  title  of  their  mother  country ! 

BARADAS  (aside). 
He  wanders ! 

RICHELIEU. 

So  cling  close  unto  my  breast ; 


104  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT   V. 

Here,  where  ihou  droop'st,  lies  France!    I  am  very 

feeble ; 
Of  little  use  it  seems  to  either  now. 
Well,  well,  we  will  go  home. 

BARA.DAS. 

In  sooth,  my  lord, 
You  do  need  rest ;  the  burdens  of  tiie  state 
O'er  task  your  health! 

BicHELiEu  {to  Joseph). 
I'm  patient,  see ! 

BARADAS  (aside). 

His  mind 
And  life  are  breaking  fast ! 

RICHELIEU  {overhearing  him). 

Irreverent  ribald ! 
If  so,  beware  the  falling  ruins !     Hark ! 
I  tell  thee,  scorner  of  these  whitening  hairs. 
When  this  snow  melteth  there  shall  come  a  flood ! 
Avaunt !  my  name  is  Richelieu ;  I  defy  thee  ! 
Walk  blindfold  on ;  behind  thee  stalks  the  headsman. 
Ha !  ha !  how  pale  he  is !    Heaven  save  my  country ! 

[Falls  back  in  Joseph'' s  artns. 

(Baradas  exit,  followed  by  De  Beringhen,  betraying  his 
exultation  by  his  gestures.) 


ACT   V. 

jFouvti)   JBaj). 
SCENE   I. 

The  Bastile — a  corridor — in  the  background  the  door  of 
one  of  the  condemned  cells. 

Enter  Joseph  and  jailer. 

JAILER. 

Stay,  father,  I  will  call  the  governor.  [Exit  jailer. 

JOSEPH. 

He  has  it,  then,  this  Huguet ;  so  we  learn 
From  Fran<;ois ;  humph !    Now  if  I  can  but  gain 


SCENE    I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  105 

One  moment's  access,  all  is  ours !     Tlie  cardinal 
Trembles  'tween  life  and  death.     His  life  is  power: 
Smite  one,  slay  both  !     No  ji^sculapian  drugs, 
By  learned  quacks  baptized  with  Latin  jargon, 
E'er  bore  the  healing  which  that  scrap  of  parchment 
Will  medicine  to  Ambition's  flagging  heart. 
France  shall  be  saved,  and  Joseph  be  a  bishop ! 

Enter  Governor  and  Joseph. 

GOVERNOR. 

Father,  j'^ou  wish  to  see  the  prisoners  Huguet 
And  the  young  knight  De  Mauprat  ] 

JOSEPH. 

So  my  office 
And  the  lord  cardinal's  order  warrant,  son ! 

GOVERNOR. 

Father,  it  cannot  be  :  Count  Baradas 

Has  summon'd  to  the  Louvre  Sieur  De  Mauprat. 

JOSEPH. 

WeU,  well!     But  Huguet— 

GOVERNOR. 

Dies  at  noon. 

JOSEPH. 

At  noon ! 
No  moment  to  delay  the  pious  rites 
Which  fit  the  soul  for  death  ;  quick,  quick,  admit  me ! 

GOVERNOR. 

You  cannot  enter,  monk !    Such  are  my  orders ! 

JOSEPH. 

Orders !  vain  man  !  the  cardinal  still  is  minister. 
His  orders  crush  all  others  ! 

GOVERNOR  {lifting  his  hat). 
Save  his  king's! 
See,  monk,  the  royal  sign  and  seal  affix'd 
To  the  count's  mandate.     None  may  have  access 
To  either  prisoner,  Huguet  or  De  Mauprat, 
Not  even  a  priest,  without  the  special  passport 
Of  Count  de  Baradas.    I'll  hear  no  more  ! 


106  RICHELIEU ;  or,  ikct  v. 


JOSEPH. 

Just  Heaven  !  and  are  we  baffled  thus  !     Despair ! ! 
Think  on  the  cardinal's  power ;  beware  his  anger. 

GOVERNOR. 

I'll  not  be  menaced,  priest  1    Besides,  the  cardinal 

Is  dying  and  disgraced ;  all  Paris  knows  it. 

You  hear  the  prisoner's  knell.  [Bell  tolls. 

JOSEPH. 

I  do  beseech  you ! 
The  cardinal  is  not  dying.     But  one  moment, 
And — hist ! — five  thousand  pistoles  ! 

GOVERNOR. 

How !  a  bribe, 
And  to  a  soldier  gray  with  hairs  of  honour ! 
Begone ! 

JOSEPH. 

Ten  thousand — twenty ! 

GOVERNOR. 

Jailer,  put 
This  monk  without  our  walls. 

JOSEPH. 

By  those  gray  hairs, 
Yea,  by  this  badge  {touching  the  cross  of  St.  Louis,  ivorn 

by  the  governor).,  the  guerdon  of  your  valour  ; 
By  all  your  toils — hard  days  and  sleepless  nights — 
Borne  in  your  country's  service,  noble  son, 
Let  me  but  see  the  prisoner ! 

GOVERNOR. 

No! 

JOSEPH. 

He  hath 
Secrets  of  state,  papers  in  which — 

GOVERNOR  {interrupting). 

I  know  J 
Such  was  his  message  to  Count  Baradas ; 
Doubtless  the  count  will  see  to  it — 


SCENE  I.]  THE     CONSPIRACY.  107 


JOSEPH. 

The  count ! 
Then  not  a  hope !     You  shall — 

GOVERNOR. 

Betray  my  trust ! 
Never;  not  one  word  more;  you  heard  me,  jailer! 

JOSEPH. 

What  can  be  done  I  distraction !     Richelieu  yet 

Must — whati — I  know  not — thought,  nerve,  strength, 

forsake  me. 
Dare  you  refuse  the  church  her  holiest  rights  ? 

GOVERNOR. 

I  refuse  nothing,  I  obey  my  orders — 

JOSEPH. 

And  sell  your  country  to  her  parricides ! 
Oh,  tremble  yet !     Richelieu — 

GOVERNOR. 

Begone ! 

JOSEPH. 

Undone ! 

[Exit  Joseph, 

GOVERNOR. 

A  most  audacious  shaveling,  interdicted 
Above  all  others  by  the  count — 

JAILER. 

I  hope,  sir, 
I  shall  not  lose  my  perquisites.    The  Sieur 
De  Mauprat  will  not  be  reprieved  ? 

GOVERNOR, 

Oh,  fear  not : 
The  count's  commands  by  him  who  came  for  Mauprat 
Are  to  prepare  headsman  and  axe  by  noon : 
The  count  will  give  you  perquisites  enough; 
Two  deaths  in  one  day ! 

JAILER. 

Sir,  may  Heaven  reward  him 


108  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT  V. 

Oh,  by-the-way,  that  troublesome  young  fellow, 
Who  calls  himself  the  prisoner  Huguet's  son, 
Is  here  again ;  implores,  weeps,  raves  to  see  him. 

GOVERNOR. 

Poor  youth,  1  pity  him ! 

Enter  De  Beringhen,  follotved  by  Franqois. 

DE  BERINGHEN  {to  Franqois.) 
Now,  prithee,  friend, 
Let  go  my  cloak  ;  you  really  discompose  me. 

FRANCOIS. 

No,  they  will  drive  me  hence  :  my  father !     Oh ! 
Let  me  but  see  him  once — but  once — one  moment ! 

DE    BERINGHEN     (lO  gOVCmOr). 

Your  servant,  messire  ;  this  poor  rascal,  Huguet, 
Has  sent  to  see  the  Count  de  Baradas 
Upon  state  secrets,  that  afllict  his  conscience. 
The  count  can't  leave  his  majesty  an  instant ; 
I  am  his  proxy. 

GOVERNOR. 

The  count's  word  is  law ! 
Again,  young  scapegrace  !     How  com'st  thou  admitted  1 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Oh !  a  most  filial  fellow  :  Huguet's  son  ! 
1  found  him  whimpering  in  the  court  below. 
I  pray  his  leave  to  say  good-by  to  father, 
Before  that  very  long  unpleasant  journey 
Father's  about  to  take.     Lot  him  wait  here 
Till  I  return. 

FRANCOIS. 

No ;  take  me  with  you. 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

Nay; 
After  me,  friend ;  the  public  first ! 

GOVERNOR. 

The  count's 
Commands  are  strict.     No  one  must  visit  Huguet 
Without  his  passport. 


SCENE   I.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  109 

DE   BERINGHEN. 

Here  it  is !    Pshaw  !  nonsense  ! 
I'll  be  your  surety.    See,  ray  Cerberus,  ' 
He  is  no  Hercules ! 

GOVERNOR. 

Well,  you're  responsible. 
Stand  there,  friend.    If,  when  you  come  out,  my  lord, 
The  youth  slip  in,  'tis  your  fault. 

DE    BERmGHEN. 

So  it  is ! 
Exit  through  the  door  of  the  cell,  folloived  by  the  jailer. 

GOVERNOR. 

Be  calm,  my  lad.    Don't  fret  so.    I  had  once 
A  father  too !     I'll  not  be  hard  upon  you. 
And  so  stand  close.     I  must  not  see  you  enter : 
You  understand.     Between  this  innocent  youth 
And  that  intriguing  monk  there  is,  in  truth, 
A  wide  distinction. 

Re-enter  Jailer. 

Come,  we'll  go  our  rounds ; 
I'll  give  you  just  one  quarter  of  an  hour  ; 
And  if  my  lord  leave  first,  make  my  excuse. 
Yet  stay,  the  gallery's  long  and  dark ;  no  sentry 
Until  he  reach  the  grate  below.     He'd  best 
Wait  till  I  come.     If  he  should  lose  the  way, 
We  may  not  be  in  call. 

FRANCOIS. 

I'll  tell  him,  sir. 

[Exeunt  governor  and  jailer. 
He's  a  wise  son  that  knoweth  his  own  father. 
I've  forged  a  precious  one  !     So  far,  so  well ! 
Alas,  what  then  !  this  wretch  has  sent  to  Baradas  ; 
Will  sell  the  scroll  to  ransom  life.     Oh,  Heaven ! 
On  what  a  thread  hangs  hope  ! 

[Listens  at  the  door. 
Loud  words  :  a  cry ! 
[Looks  through  the  keyhole. 
They  struggle !    Ho !  the  packet !  !  ! 

[Tries  to  open  the  door. 
K 


110  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [aCT   V. 

Lost !     He  has  it, 
The  courtier  has  it.     Huguet,  spite  his  chains, 
Grapples  !  well  done  !     Now,  now  !  [Draivs  back. 

The  gallery's  long ! 
And  this  is  left  us ! 

[Drawing  his  dagger^  and  standing  behind  the  door. 

Re-enter  De  Beringhen  ivith  the  packet. 

Victory ! 

Yield  it,  robber ; 
Yield  it,  or  die.  [A  short  struggle. 

DE  BERINGHEN. 

Off!  ho!  there! 

FRANCOIS  {grappling  with  him). 

Death  or  honour ! 
{Exeunt  struggling. 


SCENE   II. 

The  king^s  closet  at  the  Louvre.    A  suite  of  rooms  in  per- 
spective at  one  side, 

Baradas —  Orleans. 

BARADAS. 

All  smiles !  the  cardinal's  swoon  of  yesterday 

Heralds  his  death  to-day  ;  could  he  survive, 

It  would  not  be  as  minister ;  so  great 

The  king's  resentment  at  the  priest's  defiance ! 

All  smiles !  and  yet,  should  this  accursed  De  Mauprat 

Have  given  our  packet  to  another.     'Sdeath ! 

I  dare  not  think  of  it ! 

ORLEANS. 

You've  sent  to  search  him  1 

BARADAS. 

Sent,  sir,  to  seai  >  h  ?  that  hireling  hands  may  find 
Upon  him,  naked,  with  its  broken  seal. 
That  scroll,  whose  every  word  is  death  !     No,  no ; 
These  hands  alone  must  clutch  that  awful  secret. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  Ill 

I  dare  not  leave  the  palace,  night  or  day, 

While  Richelieu  lives ;  his  minions,  creatures,  spies — 

Not  one  must  reach  the  king ! 

ORLEANS. 

What  hast  thou  done ! 

BABADAS. 

Summon'd  De  Mauprat  hither  T 

ORLEANS. 

Could  this  Huguet, 
Who  pray'd  thy  presence  with  so  fierce  a  fervour, 
Have  thieved  the  scroll  ? 

BARADA8. 

Huguet  was  housed  with  us 
The  very  moment  we  dismiss'd  the  courier. 
It  cannot  be !  a  stale  trick  for  reprieve. 
But,  to  make  sure,  I've  sent  our  trustiest  friend 
To  see  and  sift  him.     Hist !  here  comes  the  king : 
How  fare  you,  sire  1 

Enter  Louis. 

LOUIS. 

In  the  same  mind  I  have 
Decided  !  yes,  he  would  forbid  your  presence. 
My  brother;  yours,  my  friend ;  then  Julie  too  ; 
Thwarts,  braves,  defies.     {Suddenly  turning  to  Baradas) 

We  make  you  minister. 
Gaston,  for  you,  the  baton  of  our  armies. 
You  love  me,  do  you  not  1 

ORLEANS. 

Oh,  love  you,  sire^? 
{Aside)  Never  so  much  as  now. 

BARADAS. 

May  I  deserve 
Your  trust  {aside)  until  you  sign  your  abdication ! 
My  liege,  but  one  way  left  to  daunt  De  Mauprat, 
And  Julie  to  divorce.     W^e  must  prepare 
The  death-writ ;  what  though  sign'd  and  seal'd !  we  can 
Withhold  the  enforcement. 


112  RICHELIEU;  OR,  [act  V. 


LOUIS. 

Ah,  you  may  prepare  it ; 
We  need  not  urge  it  to  effect. 

BARADAS. 

Exactly  ! 
No  haste,  my  Hege  {looJdng  at  his  icalch,  and  aside).     He 
may  live  one  hour  longer. 

Enter  Courtier, 

COURTIER. 

The  Lady  Julie,  sire,  implores  an  audience. 

LOUIS, 

Aha !  repentant  of  her  folly !    Well, 
Admit  her. 

BARADAS. 

Sire,  she  comes  for  Mauprat's  pardon, 
And  the  conditions — 

LOUIS. 

You  are  minister. 
We  leave  to  you  our  answer. 

{As  Julie  enters,  the  Captain  of  the  Archers,  hj  another 
door,  and  ivhispers  Baradas.) 

CAPTAIN. 

The  Chevalier 
De  Mauprat  waits  below. 

BARADAS  (aside). 
Now  the  despatch !     [Eccit  ivilh  officer. 

Enter  Julie, 

JULIE. 

My  liege,  you  sent  for  me.     I  come  where  grief 
Should  come  when  guiltless,  while  the  name  of  king 
Is  holy  on  the  earth !     Here,  at  the  feet 
Of  power,  I  kneel  for  mercy. 

LOUIS. 

Mercy,  Julie, 
Is  an  affair  of  state.     The  cardinal  should 
In  this  be  your  inlerpreter. 


SCENB    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  113 


JULIE. 

Alas! 
I  know  not  if  that  mighty  spirit  now 
Stoop  to  the  things  of  earth.     Nay,  while  I  speak, 
Perchance  he  hears  the  orphan  by  the  throne 
Where  kings  themselves  need  pardon ;  oh,  my  liege, 
Be  father  to  the  fatherless ;  in  you 
Dwells  my  last  hope  ! 

Enter  Baradas. 

BARADAS  (aside). 

He  has  not  the  despatch  ; 
Smiled,  while  we  search'd,  and  braves  me.     Oh ! 

LOUIS  (gently). 

What  wouldst  thou  ? 

JULIE. 

A  single  life.     You  reign  o'er  millions.     What 
Is  o?ie  man's  life  to  you  ?  and  yet  to  me 
'Tis  France,  'tis  earth,  'tis  everything !  a  life, 
A  human  life — my  husband's. 

LOUIS  (aside). 

Speak  to  her, 
I  am  not  marble  ;  give  her  hope,  or — 

BARADAS. 

Madam, 
Vex  not  your  king,  whose  heart,  too  soft  for  justice, 
Leaves  to  his  ministers  that  solemn  charge. 

[Louis  walks  up  the  stage. 

JULIE. 

You  were  his  friend. 

BARADAS. 

I  was  before  I  loved  thee. 

JULIE. 

Loved  me ! 

BARADAS. 

Hush,  Julie ;  couldst  thou  misinterpret 
My  acts,  thoughts,  motives,  nay,  my  very  words, 
Here,  in  this  palace  ? 

K2 


114  RICHELIEU;    OR,  [aCT 


JULIE. 

Now  I  know  I'm  mad  ; 
Even  that  memory  fail'd  me. 

BARADAS. 

I  am  young, 
Well-born,  and  brave  as  Mauprat :  for  thy  sake 
I  peril  what  he  has  not,  fortune,  power ; 
All  to  great  souls  most  dazzhng.     I  alone 
Can  save  thee  from  yon  tyrant,  now  my  puppet ! 
13e  mine  ;  annul  the  mockery  of  this  marriage, 
And  on  the  day  I  clasp  thee  to  my  breast 
De  Mauprat  shall  be  free. 

JULIE. 

Thou  durst  not  speak 
Thus  in  his  ear  {pointing  to  Louis).     Thou  double  trai. 

tor!  tremble. 
I  will  unmask  thee. 

BARADAS. 

1  will  say  thou  ravest. 
And  see  this  scroll !  its  letters  shall  be  blood ! 
Go  to  the  king,  count  with  me  word  for  word ; 
And  while  you  pray  the  life,  I  write  the  sentence ! 

JULIE. 

Stay,  stay  {rushing  to  the  hng)-    You  have  a  kind  and 

princely  heart. 
Though  sometimes  it  is  silent:  you  were  born 
To  poivei-;  it  has  not  flush'd  you  into  madness. 
As  it  doth  meaner  men.     Banish  my  husband. 
Dissolve  our  marriage,  cast  me  to  that  grave 
Of  human  ties,  whore  hearts  congeal  to  ice, 
In  the  dark  convent's  everlasting  winter 
(Surely  enough  for  justice,  hate,  revenge), 
But  spare  this  life,  thus  lonely,  scathed,  and  bloomless; 
And  when  thou  stanrFst  for  judgment  on  thine  own, 
The  deed  shall  shine  beside  thee  as  an  angel. 

LOUIS  {much  affected). 

Go,  go  to  Baradas ;  annul  thy  marriage, 
And— 

JULIE  {anxiously,  and  ivatching  his  countenance). 
Be  his  bride ! 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  115 


LOUIS. 

A  form,  a  mere  decorum. 
Thou  knowst  I  love  thee. 

JULIE. 

Oh  thou  sea  of  shame. 
And  not  one  star. 

{The  king  goes  up  the  stage,  and  passes  through  the 
suite  of  rooms  at  the  side  in  evident  emotion). 

BARADAS. 

Well,  thy  election,  Julie  ; 
This  hand,  his  grave  ! 

JULIE. 

His  grave  !  and  I — 

BARADAS. 

Can  save  him. 
Swear  to  be  mine. 

JULIE. 

That  were  a  bitterer  death  ! 
Avaunt,  thou  tempter!     I  did  ask  his  life 
A  boon,  and  not  the  barter  of  dishonour. 
The  heart  can  break  and  scorn  you  :  wreak  your  malice ; 
Adrien  and  I  vi'ill  leave  you  this  sad  earth. 
And  pass  together  hand  in  hand  to  Heaven ! 

BARADAS. 

You  have  decided. 
[  Withdraivs  to  the  side  scene  for  a  moment,  and  returns. 
Listen  to  me,  lady  ; 
(  am  no  base  intriguer.     I  adored  thee 
from  the  first  glance  of  those  inspiring  eyes  ; 
With  thee  entwined  ambition,  hope,  the  future. 
I  toill  not  lose  thee !    I  can  place  thee  nearest. 
Ay,  to  the  throne ;  nay,  on  the  throne,  perchance ; 
My  star  is  at  its  zenith.     Look  upon  me ; 
Hast  thou  decided  ? 

JULIE. 

No,  no ;  you  can  see 
How  weak  I  am :  be  human,  sir :  one  moment. 


116  RICHELIEU;    OR,  [aCT   V. 

BARADAS  {stamping  his  foot,  De  Mauprat  appears  at   the 

side  of  the  stage,  guarded). 
Behold  thy  husband !     Shall  he  pass  to  death, 
And  know  thou  couldst  have  saved  him  ] 

JULIE. 

Adrien,  speak ! 
But  say  you  wish  to  live  !  if  not  3'^our  wife, 
Your  slave ;  do  with  me  as  you  will  1 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Once  more ! 
Why  this  is  mercy,  count !     Oh,  think,  my  Julie, 
Life,  at  the  best,  is  sliort,  but  love  immortal ! 

BARADAS  {taking  Julie'' s  hand). 
Ah,  loveliest — 

JULIE. 

Go,  that  touch  has  made  me  iron. 
We  have  decided — death ! 

BARADAS  {to  De  Mouprat). 

Now,  say  to  whom 
Thou  gavest  the  packet,  and  thou  yet  shalt  live. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

I'll  tell  thee  nothing ! 

BARADAS. 

Hark,  the  rack ! 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

Thy  penance 
For  ever,  wretch !    What  rack  is  like  the  conscience  1 

JULIE. 

I  shall  be  with  thee  soon. 

BARADAS  {giving  the  writ  to  the  officer). 

Hence,  to  the  headsman. 
The  doors  are  thrown  open.     The  huissier  announces 

"  His  Eminence  the  Cardinal  Duke  de  Richelieu.'''' 
Enter  Richelieu,  attended  hy  gentlemen,  pages,   dfc, 
pale,  feeble,  and  leaning  on  Joseph,  followed  hy  three 
secretaries  of  state,  attended  by  sub-secretaries  with 
papers,  dfc. 


SCENE    II.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  117 

JULIE  {rushing  to  Richelieii). 
You  live,  you  live,  and  Adrien  shall  not  die ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Not  if  an  old  man's  prayers,  himself  near  death, 
Can  aught  avail  thee,  daughter !     Count,  you  now 
Hold  what  I  held  on  earth  ;  one  boon,  my  lord, 
This  soldier's  life. 

BARADAS. 

The  stake,  my  head !  you  said  it ! 
I  caimot  lose  one  trick.     Remove  your  prisoner. 

JULIE. 

No !    No ! 

Enter  Louis  from  the  rooms  beyond. 

RICHELIEU  {to  officer). 

Stay,  sir,  one  moment.     My  good  liege, 
Your  wornout  servant,  wiihng,  sire,  to  spare  you 
Some  pain  of  conscience,  would  forestall  your  wishes. 
I  do  resign  my  office. 

DE    MAUPRAT. 

You ! 

JULIE. 

All's  over! 

RICHELIEU. 

My  end  draws  near.    These  sad  ones,  sire,  I  love  them, 
I  do  not  ask  his  life ;  but  suffer  justice 
To  halt,  until  I  can  dismiss  his  soul. 
Charged  with  an  old  man's  blessing. 

LOUIS. 

Surely ! 

BARADAS. 

Sire— 

LOUIS. 

Silence ;  small  favour  to  a  dying  servant. 

RICHELIEU. 

You  would  consign  your  armies  to  the  baton 


118  .RICHELIEU;    OR,  [aCT   V 

Of  your  most  honour'd  brother.     Sire,  so  be  it ! 

Your  minister,  the  Count  de  Baradas  ; 

A  most  sagacious  choice !     Your  secretaries 

Of  state  attend  me,  sire,  to  render  up 

The  legers  of  a  realm.     I  do  beseech  you. 

Suffer  these  noble  gentlemen  to  learn 

The  nature  of  the  glorious  task  that  waits  them, 

Here,  in  my  presence. 

LOUIS. 

You  say  well,  my  lord. 
{To  secretaries,  as  he  seats  himself.) 
Approach,  sirs, 

RICHELIEU. 

I — I — faint!  air — air — 
{Joseph  and  a  gentleman  assist  him  to  a  sofa,  placed  beneath 

a  ivindow). 

I  thank  you ; 
Draw  near,  my  children. 

BARADAS. 

He's  too  weak  to  question. 
Nay,  scarce  to  speak  ;  all's  safe. 


SCENE   III. 

Mancnt  Richelieu,  Mauprat,  and  Julie,  the  last  hveeling  be- 
side the  cardinal ;  the  officer  of  the  guard  behind  Mau 
vrat.  Joseph  near  Richelieu,  walching  the  king.  Louis. 
Baradas  at  the  back  of  the  king^s  chair,  anxious  and  dis- 
turbed. Orleans  at  a  greater  distance,  careless  and  tri- 
umphant. The  secretaries.  As  each  secretary  advances 
in  his  turn,  he  takes  the  portfolios  from  the  sub-secretaries. 

FIRST    SECRETARY. 

The  affairs  of  Portugal, 
Most  urgent,  sire.     One  short  month  since  the  Duke 
Braganza  was  a  rebel. 

LOUIS. 

And  is  still ! 


SCENE    III.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  119 


FIRST   SECRETARY. 

No,  sire,  ^e  has  succeeded !    He  is  now 

Crown'd  King  of  Portugal ;  craves  instant  succour 

Against  the  arms  of  Spain. 

LOUIS. 

We  will  not  grant  it 
Against  his  lawful  king.     Eh,  count  ? 

BARADAS. 

No,  sire. 

FIRST   SECRETARY. 

But  Spain's  your  deadliest  foe  :  whatever 

Can  weaken  Spain  must  strengthen  France.  The  car- 
dinal 

Would  send  the  succours :  {solemnly)  balance,  sire,  of 
Europe ! 

LOUIS. 

The  cardinal !  balance !    Well  consider.    Eh,  count  1 

BARADAS. 

Yes,  sire ;  fall  back. 

FIRST  SECRETARY. 

But— 

BARADAS. 

Oh !  fall  back,  sir. 

JOSEPH. 

Humph ! 

SECOND    SECRETARY. 

The  affairs  of  England,  sire,  most  urgent :  Charles 

The  First  has  lost  a  battle  that  decides 

One  half  his  realm ;  craves  moneys,  sire,  and  succour. 

LOUIS. 

He  shall  have  both.    Eh,  Baradas  ? 

BARADAS. 

Yes,  sire.   " 
(Oh  that  despatch !  my  veins  are  fire !) 


120  RICHELIEU;    OR,  [aCT   V. 

RICHELIEU  {feebly,  but  iviih  great  distinctness). 

My  liege, 
Forgive  me ;  Charles's  cause  is  lost !    A  man, 
Named  Cromwell,  risen — a  great  man;  your  succour 
Would  fail,  your  loans  be  squander'd!    Pause,  reflect.* 

LOUIS. 

Reflect.     Eh,  Baradas^ 

BARADAS. 

Reflect,  sire. 

JOSEPH.     ■ 

Humph ! 

LOUIS  (aside). 

I  half  repent !     No  successor  to  Richelieu  ! 
Round  me  thrones  totter  !  dynasties  dissolve  ! 
'I'he  soil  he  guards  alone  escapes  the  earthquake ! 

JOSEPH. 

Our  star  not  yet  eclipsed  !  you  mark  the  king  1 
Oh !  had  we  the  despatch  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Ah!  Joseph!     Child, 
Would  I  could  help  thee ! 

Enter  gentleman,  lohispers  Joseph,  ivho  exit  hastily. 

BARADAS  {to  secretary). 
Sir,  fall  back. 

SECOND   SECRETARY. 

But— 

BARADAS. 

Pshaw,  sir! 

THIRD  SECRETARY  {mysteriously). 

The  secret  correspondence,  sire,  most  urgent  : 
Accounts  of  spies,  deserters,  heretics. 
Assassins,  poisoners,  schemes  against  yourself! 

LOUIS. 

Myself!  most  urgent !  {looking  on  the  documents). 

*  See  in  "Cinq  Mars,"  vol.  v.,  the  striking  and  brilliant  chapter 
from  which  the  interlude  of  the  secretaries  is  borrowed. 


SCENE    III.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  121 


Re-ente?-  Joseph  loith  Frangois,  ivhose  pourpoint  is  streaked 
with  blood.  Francois  passes  behind  the  cardinaVs  at- 
tendants, and,  sheltered  by  them  from  the  sight  of  Bar a- 
das,  c^c,  falls  at  Richelieu's  feet. 

FRANCOIS. 

Oh !  my  lord ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Thou  art  bleeding ! 

FRANCOIS. 

A  scratch ;  I  have  not  failed  !  {gives  the  packet.) 

RICHELIEU. 

Hush  !  {looking  at  the  contents.) 

THIRD   SECRETARY   {tO  king). 

Sire,  the  Spaniards 
Have  re-enforced  their  army  on  the  frontiers. 
The  Due  de  Bouillon — 

RICHELIEU. 

Hold  !     In  this  department, 
A  paper — here,  sire,  read  yourself;  then  take 
The  count's  advice  in't. 

Enter  De  Beringhen  hastily,  and  draws  aside  Baradas. 

{Richelieu,  to  secretary,  giving  an  open  parchment.) 

BARADAS  {bursting  from  De  Beringhen). 

What !  and  reft  it  from  thee  ! 
Ha!  hold! 

JOSEPH. 

Fall  back,  son ;  it  is  your  turn  now  ! 

BARADAS. 

Death !  the  despatch ! 

LOUIS  {reading). 

To  Bouillon,  and  sign'd  Orleans  ! 
Baradas,  too  !  league  witli  our  foes  of  Spain ! 
Lead  our  Italian  armies — what !  to  Paris  ! 
Capture  the  king ;  my  health  require  repose ; 
Make  me  subscribe  my  proper  abdication ; 

L 


122  RICHELIEU  ;    OR,  [ACT    V. 

Orleans,  my  brother,  regent !    Saints  of  Heaven ! 
These  are  the  men  I  loved ! 

(Baradas  draws,  attempts  to  rush  out,  is  arrested.  Or- 
leans, endeavouring  to  escape  more  quickly,  meets 
Joseph's  eye,  and  stops  short.) 

(Richelieu  falls  back.) 

JOSEPH. 

See  to  the  cardinal ! 

BARADAS. 

He's  dying !  and  I  yet  shall  dupe  the  king ! 

LOUIS  (rushing  to  Richelieu). 
Richelieu  !  lord  cardinal !  'tis  /  resign ! 
Reign  thou ! 

JOSEPH. 

Alas !  too  late  !  he  faints ! 

LOUIS. 

Reign,  Richelieu ! 
RICHELIEU  (^feebly). 
With  absolute  power  T 

LOUIS. 

Most  absolute  !     Oh  !  live  ! 
If  not  for  me,  for  France ! 

richelieu. 
France ! 

LOUIS. 

Oh  !  this  treason ! 
The  army,  Orleans,  Bouillon — Heavens !  the  Spaniard ! 
Where  will  they  be  next  week  1 

RICHELIEU  (starting  up). 

There,  at  my  feet ! 

(To  First  and  Second  Secretary.) 

Ere  the  clock  strike  !     The  envoys  have  their  answer ! 

(To  Third  Secretary,  with  a  ring.) 

This  to  De  Cliavigny ;  he  knows  the  rest ; 
No  need  of  parchment  here  ;  he  must  not  halt 


SCENE    III.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  123 

For  sleep,  for  food.     In  my  name,  mine  !  he  will 
Arrest  the  Due  de  Bouillon  at  the  head 
Of  his  army  !     Ho  !  there,  Count  de  Baradas, 
Thou  hast  lost  the  stake !     Away  with  him  !* 

{^As  the  guards  open  the  folding-doors,  a  view  of  the 

anteroom  beyond,  lined   loith   courtiers.      Baradas 

passes  through  the  line.) 

Ha!  ha! 
(Snatching  De  Mauprat''s  death-ivarrant  from  the  officer.) 
See  here  De  Mauprat's  death- writ,  Julie ! 
Parchment  for  battledores  !     Embrace  your  husband ! 
At  last  the  old  man  blesses  you ! 

JULIE. 

Oh  joy! 
You  are  saved ;  you  live ;  I  hold  you  in  these  arms. 

MAUPRAT. 

Never  to  part — 

JULIE. 

No,  never,  Adrien,  never ! 
LOUIS  (peevishly). 
One  moment  makes  a  startling  cure,  lord  cardinal  If 

BICHELIEU. 

Ay,  sire,  for  in  one  moment  there  did  pass 

Into  this  wither'd  frame  the  might  of  France  ! 

My  own  dear  France,  I  have  thee  yet ;  I  have  saved  thee ! 

I  clasp  thee  still !  it  was  thy  voice  that  call'd  me 

Back  from  the  tomb !     What  mistress  like  our  country  ■? 

*  The  passion  of  the  drama  requires  this  catastrophe  for  Baradas. 
He,  however,  survived  his  disgrace — though  stripped  of  all  his  rapid- 
ly-acquired fortunes— and  the  daring  that  belonged  to  his  character 
won  him  distinction  in  foreign  service.  He  returned  to  France  after 
Richelieu's  death,  but  never  regained  the  same  court  influence.  He 
had  taken  the  vows  of  a  Knight  of  M  alta,  and  Louis  made  him  a  prior ! 

+  The  sudden  resuscitation  of  Richelieu  (not  to  strain  too  much 
on  the  real  passion  which  supports  him  in  this  scene)  is  in  conform- 
ance with  the  more  dissimulatmg  part  of  his  character.  The  extra- 
ordinary mobility  of  his  countenance  (latterly  so  deathlike,  save  when 
the  mind  spoke  in  the  features)  always  lent  itself  to  stage  effect  of 
this  nature.  The  queen  mother  said  of  him,  that  she  had  seen  him 
one  moment  so  feeble,  cast  down,  and  "  semi-mort,"  that  he  seemed 
to  be  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  ghost,  and  the  next  moment  he 
would  start  up  full  of  animation,  energy,  and  life. 


124  RICHELIEU ;  OR,  [actv 


LOUIS. 

For  Mauprat's  pardon — well !    But  Julie,  Richelieu, 
Leave  me  one  thing  to  love  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

A  subject's  luxury  ! 
Yet,  if  you  must  love  something,  sire,  love  me! 

LOUIS  {smiling  in  spite  of  himself). 
Fair  proxy  for  a  young  fresh  demoiselle  ! 

RICHELIEU. 

Your  heart  speaks  for  my  clients.    Kneel,  my  children, 
And  thank  your  king — 

JULIE. 

Ah,  tears  like  these,  my  liege, 
Are  dews  that  mount  to  Heaven. 

LOUIS. 

Rise,  rise,  be  happy. 
{Richelieu  beckons  to  De  Beringhen.) 
DE  BERINGHEN  {falteringly) . 
My  lord — you  are — most — happily — recover'd. 

RICHELIEU. 

But  you  are  pale,  dear  Beringhen  :  this  air 

Suits  not  your  delicate  frame  ;  I  long  have  thought  so : 

Sleep  not  another  night  in  Paris.     Go,  * 

Or  else  your  precious  life  may  be  in  danger. 

Leave  France,  dear  Beringhen ! 

DE    BERINGHEN. 

I  shall  have  time, 
More  than  I  ask'd  for,  to  discuss  the  pate. 

[Exit  De  Beringhen. 

RICHELIEU  {to  Orleans). 
For  you,  repentance,  absence,  and  confession ! 

{To  Franqois.) 
Never  say /aj7  again.     Brave  boy! 

{To  Joseph.) 

He'll  be— 
A  bishop  first. 


SCENE    III.]  THE    CONSPIRACY.  125 


JOSEPH. 

Ah,  cardinal — 

RICHELIEU. 

Ah,  Joseph ! 

(To  Louis,  as  De  Mauprat  and  Julie  converse  apart.) 

See,  my  liege,  see  through  plots  and  counterplots, 
Through  gain  and  loss,  through  glory  and  disgrace, 
Along  the  plains  where  passionate  Discord  rears 
Eternal  Babel,  still  the  holy  stream 
Of  human  happiness  gUdes  on ! 

LOUIS. 

And  must  we 
Thank  for  that  also — our  prime  minister  I 

RICHELIEU. 

No,  let  us  own  it :  there  is  One  above 
Sways  the  harmonious  mystery  of  the  world 
Ev'n  better  than  prime  ministers. 

Alas ! 
Our  glories  float  between  the  earth  and  heaven 
Like  clouds  which  seem  pavilions  of  the  sun, 
And  are  the  playthings  of  the  casual  wind ; 
Still,  Hke  the  cloud  which  drops  on  unseen  crags 
The  dews  the  wild  flower  feeds  on,  our  ambition 
May  from  its  airy  height  drop  gladness  down 
On  unsuspected  virtue  ;  and  the  flower 
May  bless  the  cloud  when  it  hath  pass'd  away  !* 

*  The  image  and  the  sentiment  in  the  concluding  lines  are  bor- 
rowed from  a  passage  in  one  of  the  writings  attributed  to  the  cardinal. 


THE   END   OF   RICHELIEU. 

L2 


ODES. 


ADVERTISEMENT  TO  THE  ODES. 


The  connexion  between  the  lyric  and  dramatic 
forms  of  poetical  composition  is  sufficiently  ancient 
and  established  to  warrant  me,  I  trust,  in  subjoining  to 
an  historical  play  three  attempts,  equally  elaborate,  in 
the  less  cultivated  art  of  the  historical  ode.  Written 
at  least  with  the  advantage  of  mature  experience,  I 
venture  to  express  a  hope  that  these  odes  may,  in  some 
degree,  redeem  the  faults  of  poems  put  forth,  a  few 
years  since,  in  the  rashness  of  early  youth.  If  I  re- 
quire an  additional  apology  for  associating  them  with 
the  drama  of  "  Richelieu,"  let  me  frankly  acknowledge 
that  I  am  not  influenced  by  the  belief,  that,  should 
their  more  obtrusive  companion  meet  with  any  suc- 
cess, they  are  likely  to  obtain  a  larger  circle  of  readers, 
and,  therefore,  a  fairer  judgment,  than,  in  the  present 
indisposition  to  poetry,  an  author  whose  reputation, 
such  as  it  may  be,  lies  in  other  departments  of  litera- 
ture, could  reasonably  expect  for  a  volume  exclusively 
devoted  to  lyrical  compositions :  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  if  impartial  judges  should  pass  an  unfavourable 
verdict  on  the  pretensions,  I  have,  at  least,  put  them 
forward  in  a  more  unassuming  shape  than  that  of  a 
separate  publication. 

London,  April,  1839. 


O  D  E     I. 


THE 


LAST  DAYS  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


"  Her  delight  is  to  sit  in  the  dark,  and  sometimes,  with  shedding 
tears,  to  bewail  Essex." — Contemporaneous  Correspondence. 

"  She  refused  all  consolation  ;  few  words  she  uttered,  and  they 
were  all  expressive  of  some  hidden  grief  which  she  cared  not  to  re- 
veal. But  sighs  and  groans  were  the  chief  vent  which  she  gave  to 
her  despondency,  and  which,  though  they  discovered  her  sorrows, 
were  never  able  to  ease  or  assuage  them.  Ten  days  and  nights 
she  lay  upon  the  carpet  leaning  on  cushions  which  her  maids  broxight 
her,"  &c. — Hume. 


Rise  from  thy  bloody  grave, 

Thou  soft  Medusa  of  the  Fated  Line,* 
Whose  evil  beauty  look'd  to  death  the  brave ; 

Discrowned  queen,  around  whose  passionate  shame 
Terror  and  grief  the  palest  flowers  entwine, 

That  ever  veil'd  the  ruins  of  a  name 

With  the  sweet  parasites  of  song  divine  ! 
Arise,  sad  ghost,  arise, 

And  if  revenge  outlive  the  tomb, 
Thou  art  avenged.    Behold  the  doomer  brought  to  doom ! 
Lo,  where  thy  mighty  murderess  lies, 

The  sleepless  couch,  the  sunless  room, 
And,  quell'd  the  eagle  eye  and  lion  mien. 
The  wo-worn  shadow  of  the  Titan  queen ! 

II. 

There,  sorrow-stricken,  to  the  ground, 
AlLke  by  night  and  day, 

*  Mary  Stuart—"  The  soft  Medusa"  is  an  expression  strikingly 
applied  to  her  in  her  own  day. 


132 

The  heart's  blood  from  the  inward  wound 

Ebbs  silently  away. 
And  oft  she  turns  from  face  to  face 

A  sharp  and  eager  gaze, 
As  if  the  memory  sought  to  trace 
The  sign  of  some  lost  dwelling-place, 

Beloved  in  happier  days  ; 
Ah,  what  tiie  clew  supplies 

In  the  cold  vigil  of  a  hireling's  eyes? 
Ah,  sad  in  cluldless  age  to  weep  alone, 

And  start  and  gaze,  to  find  no  sorrow  save  our  own  ! 
Oh  soul,  thou  speedest  to  thy  rest  away, 

But  not  upon  the  pinions  of  the  dove  ; 
When  death  draws  nigh,  how  miserable  they 

Who  have  outlived  all  love ! 

As  on  tlie  solemn  verge  of  night 

Lingers  a  weary  moon. 
She  wanes,  the  last  of  every  glorious  light 

That  bathed  with  splendour  her  majestic  noon: 
The  stately  stars  that,  clustering  o'er  the  isle, 

Luird  into  glittering  rest  the  subject  sea; 
Gone  the  great  masters  of  Italian  wile, 
False  to  the  world  beside,  but  true  to  thee  ! 
Burleigh,  the  subtlest  builder  of  thy  fame. 

The  gliding  craft  of  winding  Walsinghame; 
They  who  exalted  yet  before  thee  bowed ; 

And  that  more  dazzling  chivalry,  the  band 

That  made  thy  court  a  faery  land. 

In  which  thou  wert  enshrined  to  reign  alone, 

The  Gloriana  of  the  diamond  throne  : 

All  gone,  and  left  thee  sad  amid  the  cloud ! 

III. 

To  their  great  sires,  to  whom  thy  youth  was  known, 

Who  from  thy  smile,  as  laurels  from  the  sun, 
Drank  the  immortal  greenness  of  renown, 
Succeeds  the  cold  lip-homage  scantly  won 
From  the  new  race  whose  hearts  already  bear 
The  wise-man's  offerings  to  th'  unworlliy  heir. 
There,  specious  Bacon's*  unimpassion'd  brow, 

*  See  the  servile  and  heart-sickening  conespondence  maintained 
by  Francis  Bacon  atid  Robert  Cecil  (the  sons  of  Elizabeth's  most 
faitlitul  friends)  with  the  Scottish  cor.rt  during  the  queen's  last  ill- 
ness. 


133 

And  crook-back  Cecil's  ever  earthward  eyes 
Watching  the  glass  in  which  the  sands  run  low ; 

But  deem  not  fondly  there 
To  weep  the  fate  or  pour  th'  averting  prayer 

Have  come  those  solemn  spies ! 

Lo,  at  the  regal  gate 
The  impatient  couriers  wait ; 

To  speed  from  hour  to  hour  the  nice  account 
That  registers  the  grudged  unpitied  sighs 
Which  yet  must  joy  delay,  before 
The  Stuart's  tottering  step  shall  mount 
The  last  great  Tudor's  throne,  red  with  his  mother's 
gore! 

IV. 

Oh  piteous  mockery  of  all  pomp  thou  art, 
Poor  child  of  clay,  worn  out  with  toil  and  years ! 
As,  layer  by  layer,  the  granite  of  the  heart 
Dissolving,  melteth  to  the  weakest  tears 
That  ever  village  maiden  shed  above 
The  grave  that  robb'd  her  quiet  world  of  love. 
Ten  days  and  nights  upon  that  floor 

Those  weary  Umbs  have  lain ; 
And  every  hour  but  added  more 

Of  heaviness  to  pain. 
As  gazing  into  dismal  air 
She  sees  the  headless  phantom  there. 
The  victim  round  whose  image  twined 
The  last  wild  love  of  womankind  ; 
That  love  which,  in  its  dire  excess, 
Will  blast  where  it  can  fail  to  bless. 
And,  like  the  lightning,  flash  and  fade 
In  gloom  along  the  ruins  it  has  made. 
'Twere  sad  to  see  from  those  stern  eyes 

Th'  unheeded  anguish  feebly  flow ; 
And  hear  the  broken  word  that  dies 

In  moanings  faint  and  low ; 
But  sadder  still  to  mark,  the  while, 
The  vacant  stare,  the  marble  smile. 
And  think,  that  goal  of  glory  won, 

How  sligTit  a  shade  between 
The  idiot  moping  in  the  sun 
And  England's  giant  queen!* 

*  "  It  was  after  labouring  for  nearly  three  weeks  under  a  morbid 
melancholy,  which  brought  on  a  stupor  not  unmixed  with  some  iii- 

M 


134 


V. 

Call  back  the  gorgeous  past ! 

Lo,  England  white-robed  for  a  holyday  ! 

While,  choral  to  the  clarion's  kingly  blast, 

Peals  shout  on  shout  along  the  virgin's  way ; 
As  through  the  swarming  streets  rolls  on  the  long  array. 

Mary  is  dead!     Look  from  your  fire-won  homes, 

Exulting  martyrs !  on  the  mount  shall  rest 
Truth's  ark  at  last !  th'  avenging  Lutheran  comes 

And  clasps  the  Book  ye  died  for  to  her  breast  !* 
With  her,  the  flower  of  all  the  land, 

The  highborn  gallants  ride, 
And,  ever  nearest  of  the  band, 
With  watchful  eye  and  ready  hand, 
Young  Dudley's  form  of  pride  If 
Ah,  ev'n  in  that  exulting  hour 
Love  half  allures  the  soul  from  power, 
And  blushes,  half-suppressed,  betray 

The  woman's  hope  and  fear ; 
Like  blooms  which  in  the  early  May 
Bud  forth  beneath  a  timorous  ray. 
And  mark  the  mellowing  year. 
While  steals  the  sweetest  of  all  worship,  paid 

Less  to  the  monarch  than  the  maid. 
Melodious  on  the  ear ! 

dications  of  a  disordered  fancy,  that  the  queen  expired. — Aikin's 
translation  of  a  Latin  letter  (author  nnknou'ii)  to  Edmund  Lamhert. 

Robert  Carey,  who  was  admitted  to  an  interview  with  Elizabeth 
in  her  last  illness,  after  describing  the  passionate  anguish  of  her  sighs, 
observes,  "  that,  in  all  his  lifetime  before,  he  never  knew  her  fetch  a 
sigh  but  when  the  Queen  of  Scots  was  beheaded."  Yet  this  Robert 
Carey,  the  well-born  mendicant  of  her  bounty,  was  the  liist  whose 
eager  haste  and  joyous  countenance  told  James  that  the  throne  of  the 
Tudors  was  at  last  vacant. 

*  "When  she  (Klizabeth)  was  conducted  through  London  amid 
the  joyful  acclamations  of  her  subjects,  a  boy,  who  personated  Truth, 
was  let  down  from  one  of  the  triumphal  arches,  and  presented  to  her 
a  copy  of  the  Bible.  8 he  received  the  book  with  the  most  gracious 
deportment,  placed  it  next  her  bosom,"  &c. — Hume. 

t  Robert  Dudley,  afterward  the  Leicester  of  doubtful  fame,  attend- 
ed Elizabeth  in  her  passage  to  the  Tower.  The  streets,  as  she  pass- 
ed along,  were  spread  with  the  finest  gravel  ;  banners  and  pennons, 
hangings  of  silk,  of  velvet,  of  cloth  of  gold,  were  suspended  from  the 
balconies,  musicians  and  singers  were  stationed  amid  the  populace, 
as  she  rode  along  in  her  purple  robes,  preceded  by  her  heralds,  &c. 


135 


VI. 

Call  back  the  gorgeous  past ! 
The  lists  are  set,  the  trumpets  sound, 
Bright  eyes,  sweet  judges,  throned  around; 
And  stately  on  the  glittering  ground 
The  old  chivalric  life  ! 
*'  Forward."*    The  signal  word  is  given ; 

Beneath  the  shock  the  greensward  shakes ; 
The  lusty  cheer,  the  gleaming  spear, 
.  The  snow-plume's  falling  flakes, 

The  fiery  joy  of  strife ! 
Thus,  when,  from  out  a  changeful  heaven 
O'er  waves  in  eddying  tumult  driven 
A  stormy  smile  is  cast, 
Alike  the  gladsome  anger  takes 
The  sunshine  and  the  blast ! 
Who  is  the  victor  of  the  day  ? 
Thou  of  the  delicate  form,  and  golden  hair, 
And  manhood  glorious  in  its  midst  of  May; 
Thou  who  upon  thy  shield  of  argent  bearest 
The  bold  device,  "  Tiie  loftiest  is  the  fairest!" 
As  bending  low  thy  stainless  crest, 
"  The  vestal  throned  by  the  west" 
Accords  the  old  Provencal  crown 
Which  blends  her  own  with  thy  renown; 
Arcadian  Sidney,  nursling  of  the  muse. 
Flower  of  fair  chivalry,  whose  bloom  was  fed 

With  daintiest  Castaly's  most  silver  dews, 
Alas!  how  soon  thy  amaranth  leaves  were  shed; 
Born,  what  th'  Ausonian  minstrel  dream'd,  to  be\ 
Time's  knightly  epic  pass'd  from  earth  with  thee  ! 

VII. 

Call  back  the  gorgeous  past ! 

Where,  bright  and  broadening  to  the  main. 

Rolls  on  the  scornful  river ; 
Stout  hearts  beat  high  on  Tilbury's  plain, 

Our  Marathon  for  ever ! 

♦  The  customary  phrase  was  "  Laissez  alter." 

f  What  difference  between  the  Tancred  of  Tasso  and  the  Sidney 
of  England,  except  that  the  last  was  of  bone  and  flesh  ?  "  The  Life 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,"  as  Campbell  finely  expresses  it,  "  was  poetry 
put  in  action."  With  him  died  the  Provengal  and  the  Norman,  the 
ideal  of  the  middle  ages. 


136 

No  breeze  above,  but  on  the  mast 
The  pennon  shook  as  with  the  blast. 
Forth  from  the  cloud  the  day-god  strode, 
O'er  bristling  helms  the  splendour  glow'd, 
Leap'd  the  loud  joy  from  earth  to  heaven, 
As,  through  the  ranks  asunder  riven, 

The  warrior- wo  man  rode  ! 

Hark,  thrilling  through  the  armed  hne 
The  martial  accents  ring, 
"Though  mine  the  woman's  form,  yet  mine 
"  The  heart  of  England's  king  !"* 

Wo  to  the  island  and  the  maid ! 

The  pope  has  preach'd  the  new  crusade,! 

His  sons  have  caught  the  fiery  zeal ; 

The  monks  are  merry  in  Castile  ; 
Bold  Parma  on  the  main ; 

And  through  the  deep  exulting  sweep 
The  thunder-steeds  of  iSpain.J 
What  meteor  rides  the  sulphurous  gale  1 
The  flames  have  caught  the  giant  sail ! 
Fierce  Drake  is  grappling  prow  to  prow ; 
God  and  St.  George  for  victory  now  ! 
Death  in  the  battle  and  the  wind ; 
Carnage  before  and  storm  behind ; 
Wild  shrieks  are  heard  above  the  hurtling  roar 
By  Orkney's  rugged  strands  and  Erin's  ruthless  shore. 

Joy  to  the  island  and  the  maid ! 

Pope  Sixtus  wept  the  last  crusade ; 

His  sons  consumed  before  his  zeal 

The  monks  are  woful  in  Castile  ; 


*  "  I  know  I  have  but  the  body  of  a  weak  and  feeble  woman,  but  I 
have  the  heart  of  a  king,  and  of  a  king  of  England  too." — Elizabeth's 
harangue  at  Tilfniry  Camp. 

She  rode  bareheaded  through  the  ranks,  a  page  bearing  her  helmet, 
mounted  on  a  war-horse,  clad  in  steel,  and  wielding  a  general's 
truncheon  in  her  hand.  Nothing  in  Napoleon's  speeches  excels  the 
simple  and  grand  eloquence  of  her  imperishable  address  to  her  sol- 
diery. 

+  "  Sextus  Qu-intus,  the  present  pope,  famous  for  his  capacity 
and  his  tyranny,  had  published  a  crusade  against  England,  and  had 
granted  plenary  indulgences  to  every  one  engaged  in  the  present  in- 
vasion."— Hume.  This  pope  was  nevertheless  Elizabeth's  admirer 
as  well  as  foe,  and  said,  not  very  clerically,  "  If  a  son  could  be  born 
from  us  two,  he  would  be  master  of  the  world." 

t  "  Steeds  of  the  sea"  was  the  poetic  synonyme  for  ships  with  the 
old  Runic  bards. 


137 

Your  monument  the  main, 
The  glaive  and  gale  record  your  tale, 
Ye  thunder-steeds  of  Spain  ! 

VIII. 

Turn  from  the  gorgeous  past ; 
Its  lonely  ghost  thou  art ! 
A  tree,  that,  in  a  world  of  bloom. 
Droops,  spectral  in  its  leafless  gloom, 

Before  the  griding  blast ; 
But  art  thou  fallen  then  so  low  T 
Art  thou  so  desolate  ?  wan  shadow,  No  ! 

Crouch'd,  suppliant  by  the  grave's  unclosing  portal, 
Love,  which  proclaims  thee  human,  bids  thee  know 
A  truth  more  lofty  in  thy  lowliest  hour 
Than  shallowest  glory  taught  to  deafen'd  power, 
"  What's  human  is  immortal  !" 
'Tis  sympathy  which  makes  sublime ! 
Never  so  reverent  in  thy  noon  of  time 
As  now,  when  o'er  thee  hangs  the  midnight  pall ; 
No  comfort,  pomp ;  and  wisdom  no  protection  ; 
Hope's   "  cloud-capp'd  towers   and   solemn  temples" 

gone — 
Mid  memory's  wrecks,  eternal  and  alone ; 
Type  of  the  woman-deity  Affection  ; 
That  only  Eve  which  never  knew  a  fall, 
Sad  as  the  dove,  but,  like  the  dove,  surviving  all ! 

M2 


ODE   11. 

CROMWELL'S  DREAM. 


[The  conception  of  this  ode  originated  in  a  popular  tradition  of  Cronri- 
well's  earher  days.  It  is  thus  strikingly  related  by  Mr.  Forster,  in 
his  recent  and  very  valuable  Life  of  Cromwell :  "  He  had  laid 
himself  down,  too  fatigued  to  hope  for  sleep,  when  suddenly  the 
curtains  of  his  bed  were  s.lovvly  withdrawn  by  a  gigantic  figure, 
which  bore  the  aspect  of  a  woman,  and  which,  gazing  at  him  si- 
lently for  a  while,  told  him  that  he  should,  before  his  death,  be  the 
greatest  man  in  England.  He  remembered  when  he  told  the 
story,  and  the  recollection  marked  the  current  of  his  thoughts, 
that  the  figure  had  not  made  mention  of  the  ii'ord  king."  Alteration 
has  been  made  in  the  scene  of  the  vision  and  the  age  of  Cromwell.] 

The  moor  spread  wild  and  far 

In  the  sharp  whiteness  of  a  wintry  shroud, 

Midnight  yet  moonless  ;  and  the  winds  ice-bound, 
And  a  gray  dusk — not  darkness — reign'd  around, 
Save  where  the  paleness  of  a  sudden  star 
Peer'd  o'er  some  haggard  precipice  of  cloud. 
Where  on  the  wold,  the  triple  pathway  cross'd, 
A  sturdy  wanderer,  wearied,  lone,  and  lost, 
Paused  and  gazed  round ;  a  dwarfd  but  aged  yew 
O'er  the  wan  rime  its  gnomelike  shadow  threw ; 
The  spot  invited,  and  by  sleep  opprcss'd, 
Beneath  the  boughs  he  laid  him  down  to  rest. 
A  man  of  stalwart  limbs  and  hardy  frame. 
Meet  for  the  antique  time  when  force  was  fame, 
Youthful  in  years — the  features  yet  betray 
Thoughts  rarely  mellow'd  till  the  locks  are  gray ; 
Round  the  firm  lips  the  lines  of  solemn  wile 
Might  warn  the  wise  of  danger  in  the  smile; 
But  the  blunt  aspect  spoke  more  sternly  still 
That  craft  of  craft,  the  Stubborn  Will  : 
'I'hat  which,  let  what  may  betide, 
Never  halts  nor  swerves  aside ; 
From  afar  its  victim  viewing. 
Slow  of  speed,  but  sure-pursuing  ; 


i39 


1 


Through  maze,  up  mount,  still  bounding  on  its  way, 
Till  it  is  grimly  couch'd  beside  the  conquer'd  prey  ! 

II. 

The  loftiest  fate  will  longest  lie 
In  unrevealing  sleep ; 

And  yet  unknown  the  destined  race. 

Nor  yet  his  soul  had  walk'd  with  grace ; 

Still,  on  the  seas  of  Time 

Drifted  the  ever-careless  prime  ; 

But  many  a  blast  that  o'er  the  sky 

All  idly  seems  to  sweep, 
Still  while  it  speeds  may  spread  the  seeds. 

The  toils  of  autumn  reap  : 
And  we  must  blame  the  soil,  and  not  the  wind, 
If  hurrying  passion  leave  no  golden  grain  behind. 

III. 

Seize,  seize,  seize  !* 
Bind  him  strong  in  the  chain,  . 

On  his  heart,  on  his  brain. 
Clasp  the  gyves  of  the  iron  sleep. 

Seize,  seize,  seize, 
Ye  fiends  that  dimly  sweep 
Up  from  the  cloudy  deep. 
Where  Death  holds  ghastly  watch  beside  his  brother, 

Ye  pale  impalpables,  that  are 

Shadows  of  truths  afar, 

Prophets  that  men  call  Dreams  ; 
The  phantom  birth  of  that  mysterious  mother, 

Who,  by  the  Ebon  Gate, 

Beyond  the  shore  where  daylight  streams, 

Sits,  muttering  spells  for  mortal  state. 
Young  with  eternal  years,  the  Titan-sibyl  Fate  ! 

Prophets  that  men  call  Dreams  ! 
Seize,  seize,  seize. 

Bind  him  strong  in  the  chain, 

On  his  heart,  on  his  brain, 

Clasp  the  gyves  of  the  iron  sleep ! 
Awakes  or  dreams  he  still  ? 

His  eyes  are  open  with  a  glassy  stare, 

*  Ad6e,  ?ia6e,  7ia6e,  laSe  (seize,  seize,  seize).— JEschyl.  Eu- 
men.,  125. 


140 

On  the  fix'd  brow  the  large  drops  gather  chill, 

And  horror  Hke  a  wind  stirs  through  the  lifted  liair.* 

Before  him  stands  the  tiling  of  dread, 
A  giant  shadow  motionless  and  pale  ! 
As  those  dim  Lemur-vapoursf  that  exhale 
From  the  rank  grasses  rotting  o'er  the  dead, 
And  startle  midnight  with  the  mocking  show 
Of  the  still,  shrouded  bones  that  sleep  below  : 

So  the  wan  image  which  the  vision  bore 

Was  outlined  from  the  air,  no  more 
Than  served  to  make  the  loathing  sense  a  bond 
Between  the  world  of  life  and  grislier  worlds  beyond. 


"  Behold  !"  the  shadow  said,  and  lo, 

Whore  the  blank  heath  had  spread,  a  smiling  scene ; 

Soft  woodlands  sloping  from  a  village  green,t 
And,  waving  to  blue  Heaven,  the  happy  cornfields 
glow : 

A  modest  roof,  with  ivy  cluster'd  o'er. 

And  childhood's  busy  mirth  beside  the  door. 

But,  yonder,  sunset  sleeping  on  the  sod, 
Bow  labour's  rustic  sons  in  solenm  prayer; 

And,  self-made  teacher  of  the  trutlis  of  God, 
The  dreamer  sees  the  Phantom-Cromwell  there ! 
"  Art  thou  content,  of  these  the  greatest  Thou" 
Murmur'd  the  fiend,  "  the  master  and  the  priest!" 
A  sullen  anger  knit  the  dreamer's  brow, 
And  from  his  scornful  lips  the  words  came  slow, 

*  tc  uKQav 

Ael/i'  vTtijMe  Kgarog  (jidCiav. 

Soph.  GEclip.  Col.,  1465. 

+  The  Lemures  or  Larvse,  the  evil  spirits  of  the  dead,  as  the 
Lares  were  the  good.  They  haunted  sepulchres — "  loath  to  leave 
the  bodies  that  they  loved." 

X  The  farm  of  St.  Ives,  where  Cromwell  spent  three  years,  after- 
ward recalled  with  regret,  though  not  unalnicted  with  dark  hypo- 
chondria and  sullen  discontent.  Here,  as  Mr.  Forster  impressively 
observes,  "  in  the  tenants  that  rented  from  him,  in  the  labourers  that 
served  under  him,  he  sought  to  sow  the  seeds  of  his  after  troop  of 
Ironsides.  .  .  .  All  the  famous  doctrines  of  his  later  and  more  cele- 
brated years  were  tried  and  tested  in  the  little  farm  of  St.  Ives.  .  .  . 
Before  going  to  their  fieldwork  in  the  morning,  they  (his  servants) 
knelt  down  with  their  master  in  the  touching  equality  of  prayer;  in 
the  evening  they  shared  with  him  again  the  comfort  and  exaltation 
of  divine  precepts." — Forster''s  Cromwell. 


141 

*'  The  greatest  of  the  hamlet,  demon,  no  !" 
Loudlaugh'd  the  fiend,  then  trembled  through  the  sky, 
"Where  haply  angels  watch'd,  a  warning  sigh  ; 
And  darkness  swept  the  scene,  and  golden  quiet  ceased. 

VI. 

*'  Behold !"  the  shadow  said ;  a  hell-born  ray 
Shoots  through  the  night,  up  leaps  the  unbless'd  day, 
Spring  from  the  earth  the  dragon's  armed  seed, 
The  ghastly  squadron  wheels  and  neighs  the  spectre- 
steed. 

Unnatural  sounds  the  mother-tongue 
As  loud  from  host  to  host  the  English  warcry  rung ; 

Kindred  with  kindred  blent  in  slaughter,  lo 
The  dark  phantasma  of  the  prophet-wo ! 

A  gay  and  glittering  band  ! 
Apollo's  lovelocks  in  the  crest  of  Mars ; 
Light-hearted  Valour,  laughing  scorn  to  scars ; 

A  gay  and  glittering  band. 
Unwitting  of  the  scythe,  the  lilies  of  the  land ! 

Pale  in  the  midst,  that  stately  squadron  boast 
A  princely  form,  a  mournful  brow; 

And  still,  where  plumes  are  proudest,  seen, 

With  sparkling  eye  and  dauntless  mien, 
The  young  Achilles*  of  the  host. 

On  rolls  the  surging  war,  and  now 
Along  the  closing  columns  ring, 

"  Rupert"  and  "  Charles,"  "  The  Lady  of  the  Crown,"t 

"  Down  with  the  Roundhead  rebels,  down !" 
"  St.  George  and  England's  king." 

A  stalwart  and  a  sturdy  band, 
"Whose  souls  of  sullen  zeal 
Are  made  by  the  Immortal  Hand, 

Invulnerable  steel ! 
A  kneeling  host,  a  pause  of  prayer, 
A  single  voice  thrills  through  the  air 
"  They  come.     Up,  Irozisides ! 
For  Truth  and  Peace  unsparing  smite  ! 
Behold  the  accursed  Amalekite  !" 
The  dreamer's  heart  beat  high  and  loud, 

*  Prince  Rupert. 

t  Henrietta  Maria  was  the  popular  watchword  of  the  Cavaliers. 


142 

For,  calmly  through  the  carnage-cloud, 
The  scourge  and  servant  of  the  Lord, 
This  hand  the  Bible,  that  the  sword, 
The  Phantom-Cromwell  rides ! 

A  lurid  darkness  swallows  the  array, 
One  moment  lost ;  the  darkness  rolls  away, 
And  o'er  tlie  slaughter  done 
Smiles,  with  his  eyes  of  love,  the  setting  sun. 
Death  makes  our  foe  our  brother ; 
And,  meekly,  side  by  side, 
Sleep  scowhng  Hate  and  sternly  smiling  Pride, 
On  the  kind  breast  of  earth,  the  quiet  mother ! 
Lo,  where  the  victor  sweeps  along, 
The  Gideon  of  the  gory  throng, 
Beneath  his  hoofs  the  harmless  dead. 
The  sunlight  glory  on  his  helmed  head, 
Before  him  steel-clad  Victory  bending, 
Around,  from  heaven  to  earth  ascending, 
The  fiery  incense  of  triumphant  song. 

So,  as  some  orb  above  a  mighty  stream 
Sway'd  by  its  law,  and  sparkling  in  its  beam, 
A  power  apart  from  that  tempestuous  tide, 
Calm  and  aloft  behold  the  Phantom-Conqueror  ride ! 
"  Art  thou  content,  of  these  the  greatest  Thou, 
Hero  and  patriot  ■?"  murmur'd  then  the  fiend. 
The  unsleeping  dreamer  answer'd,  "  Tempter,  nay, 

My  soul  stands  breathless  on  the  mountain's  brow. 
And  looks  beyond .'"     Again  swift  darkness  screen'd 

The  solemn  chieftain  and  the  fierce  array. 
And  armed  glory  pass'd,  like  happier  peace,  away. 

VII. 

He  look'd  again,  and  saw 
A  chamber  with  funereal  sables  hung, 
Wherein  there  lay  a  ghastly,  headless  thing. 
That  once  had  been  a  king ; 
And  by  the  corpse  a  living  man,  whose  doom, 
Had  both  been  left  to  Nature's  quiet  law, 
Were  riper  for  the  garden-house  of  gloom.* 

*  The  reader  will  recall  the  well-known  story  of  Cromwell  open- 
ing the  coffin  of  Charles  with  the  hilt  of  a  private  soldier's  sword,  and, 
after  gazing  on  the  body  some  time,  observing  calmly,  that  it  seemed 
made  for  long  hfe. — 


143 

Rudely  beside  the  gory  clay  were  flung 
A  broken  sceptre  and  an  antique  crown, 

So,  after  some  imperial  tragedy 
August  alike  with  sorrow  and  renown, 

We  smile  to  see  the  gauds  that  moved  our  awe. 
Purple  and  orb,  in  dusty  lumber  lie  ; 

Alas,  what  thousands,  on  the  stage  of  Time, 

liUvied  the  bawbles  and  revered  the  mime  ! 

PLiced  by  the  trunk,  with  long  and  whitening  hair 
By  dark-red  gouts  besprent,  the  severed  head 
Up  to  the  gazer's  musing  eyes,  the  while, 
Look'd  with  its  livid  brow  and  stony  smile. 

On  that  sad  scene  his  gaze  the  dreamer  fed. 

Familiar  both  the  living  and  the  dead; 

Terror,  and  hate,  and  strife  concluded  there, 
Calm  in  his  six-feet  realm*  the  monarch  lay ; 
And  by  the  Avarning  victim's  mangled  clay 

The  Phantom-Cromwell  smiled,  and  bending  down 

"With  shadowy  fingers,  toy'd  about  the  shadowy  crown. 
"  Art  thou  content,  at  last,  a  greater  thou 
Than  one  to  whom  the  loftiest  bent  the  knee. 
Brand  to  the  false,  but  banner  to  the  free — 
Avenger  and  deliverer !" 

"  Fiend,"  replied 

The  dreamer,  "  who  shall  palter  with  the  tide  1 

Deliverer!    Pilots  who  the  vessel  save 

Leave  not  the  helm  while  winds  are  on  the  wave. 

The  future  is  the  haven  of  the  now  !" 

"  True,"  quoth  the  fiend  ;  again  the  darkness  spread, 

And  night  gave  back  to  air  the  doomsman  and  the  dead ! 

VIII. 

He  look'd  again ;  and  now 
A  lofty  senate  stern  with  many  a  form. 
Not  unfamiliar  to  the  former  strife ; 
An  anxious  passion  knit  each  gather'd  brow ; 
O'er  all,  that  hush  deep  not  serene,  in  life, 
As  in  the  air,  prophetic  of  wild  storm. 

Uprose  a  stately  shapef  with  dark-bright  eye 

"  Had  Nature  been  his  executioner. 
He  would  have  outhved  me  !" — Cromwell,  a  MS.  tragedy. 
*  A  whole  epic  was  in  the  stem  epigram  of  the  Saxon  when  asked 
by  the  rival  to  his  throne  "  What  share  of  territory  wilt  thou  give 
me  ?"    "  Six  feet  of  land  for  a  grave  !" 

t  When  Cromwell  came  down  (leaving  his  musketeers  without 


144 

And  worn  cheek  lighted  with  a  feverish  glow  ; 
It  spoke,  and  at  the  aspect  and  the  sound 
The  dreamer  breath'd  a  fierce  and  restless  sigh ; 
An  instinct  bade  him  hate  and  fear 
That  unknown  shape,  as  if  a  foe  were  near; 
For,  mighty  in  that  mien  of  thoughtful  youth, 
Spoke  fraud's  most  deadly  foe — a  soul  on  fire  with 
Truth ; 
A  soul  without  one  stain 
Save  England's  hallowing  tears ;  the  sad  and  starry 
Vane ! 
There  enters  on  that  conclave  high 
A  solitary  man ; 
And  rustling  through  the  conclave  high 

A  troubled  murmur  ran ; 
A  moment  more — loud  riot  all — 
With  pike  and  morion  gleam  the  startled  hall : 
And  there,  where,  since  the  primal  date 

Of  Freedom's  glorious  morn, 
The  eternal  people  solemn  sate, 
The  people's  champion  spat  his  ribald  scorn! 
Dark  moral  to  all  ages  !     Blent  in  one 
The  broken  fasces  and  the  shatter'd  throne  ; 
The  deed  that  damns  immortally  is  done ; 
And  F'oRCE,  the  Cain  of  nations,  reigns  alone  ! 
The  veil  is  rent,  the  crafty  soul  lies  bare  ! 
"  Behold,"  the  demon  cried,  "  the   Future  Cromwell, 

there ! 
Art  thou  content,  on  earth  the  greatest  thou. 
Apostate  and  Usurper?"     From  his  rest 
The  dreamer  started  with  a  heaving  breast, 
The  better  angels  of  the  human  heart 
Not  dumb  to  his  :  the  hell-born  laugh'd  aloud, 
And  o'er  the  evil  vision  rush'd  the  cloud ! 

the  door)  to  dissolve  the  Long  ParHament,  Vane  was  in  the  act  of 
urging  through  the  last  stage  the  bill  that  would  have  saved  the 
republic.  See  Forster's  spirited  account  of  this  scene,  Life  of  Vane, 
152. 


ODE   III. 

THE  DEATH  OF  NELSON. 

I. 

The  wind  comes  gently  from  the  west,* 

The  smile  is  on  the  face  of  day, 
And  gayly  o'er  the  ocean's  breast 

The  breezes  are  at  play ; 
Along  the  deep,  upon  the  foe. 

The  sails  of  England  bear; 
Above,  the  busy  murmurs  glow,! 
Hush'd  in  the  cabin,  kneels  below, 

A  lonely  man  in  prayer. 
He  pray'd  as  ought  to  pray  the  brave 

Before  the  seraph-guarded  throne  ; 
He  pray'd  to  conquer  and  to  save. 

The  morn  of  that  immortal  strife, 

More  anxious  for  a  foeman's  life| 
Than  hopeful  for  his  own. 

n. 

He  rose  \.  before  him  glow'd, 

In  limned  loveliness,  that  haunting  face,^ 

Where,  through  the  roseate  bloom  of  its  aboile, 

*  The  wind  was  now  from  the  west,  light  breezes,  &c.  Having 
seen  that  all  was  as  it  should  be,  Nelson  retired  to  his  cabin  and 
wrote  the  following  prayer,  &c. — Southey's  Nelson. 

t  "  The  busy  rmirrnur  glows." — Gray. 

i  "  May  humanity  after  victory  be  the  predominant  feature  in  the 
British  fleet.  For  myself  individually,  I  commit  my  hfe  to  Him 
that  made  me,"  &c. — A^elsoti's  last  prayer. 

(}  A  portrait  of  Lady  Hamilton  hung  in  his  cabin.  The  undisguis- 
ed and  romantic  passion  with  which  he  regarded  it  amounted  almo??. 
fo  superstition. — Southey's  Nelson. 

N 


« 


146 

Look'd  out  the  starry  soul !     Celestial,  thus, 
ThrouKli  sunset  clouds,  Idalian  Hesperus, 
Breaks  on  the  lover  loiterinfj  by  the  sea 

That  laves  the  passionate  shores  of  soft  Parthenope. 
The  youngest-born  of  the  Olympian  race, 

The  Hebe  of  the  martyr-demigod. 

Never  with  looks  of  more  voluptuous  hght 

The  golden  ether  trod  ; 

Slow-stealing  where  at  length  from  eartli  reposed 

Her  hero-bridegroom,  as  more  blandly  bright, 

Grew  with  her  blush,  the  glory-purpled  skies. 
Grim  by  the  throne  of  Zeusf  the  eagle  closed 
At  her  melodious  step  his  charmed  eyes, 

And  worn  Alcides,  of  his  woes  beguiled, 

Turn'd  from  the  whispering  Mars,  and  Love  ambrosial 
smiled. 

HI. 

What  thoughts  were  his,  the  doom'd  and  lonely  one. 
Feeding  the  last  look  on  that  fatal  face? 

Did  conscience  darken  o'er  the  evil  done. 

Or  deem  that  love  so  deep  could  be  disgrace! 

Did  that  sole  deed  of  vengeance  wild  and  weak, 
Which  bow'd  the  warrior  to  the  woman's  slave, 

Ghastlv  and  mournful  o'er  his  memory  break? 
Mark'd  he  the  corpse,  rejected  by  the  wave, 
Floating  once  more  upon  the  accusing  sea; 

The  livid  asjjcct  and  tlie  snow-wliite  hair; 

The  fix'd  eyes  fearful  witli  a  stony  glare; 
Lifelike  in  deatli,  the  wrong'd  Caraccioli  ?  J 

*  Partlieiiopp,  the  jjoetical  name  of  Naples.  It  was  in  that  city 
that  Nelson  first  saw  Lady  Hamilton. 

t  Pinil.  Pyth,  1.  1  need  scarcfily  perhaps  inform  even  the  general 
reader,  that  Zeus,  in  an  apphcation  of  Greek  mythology,  is  a  more 
appropriate  name  for  the  ihundergod  ihan  that  of  Jupiter. 

X  Prnice  Francesco  Caraccioli  wa.'j  at  the  head  of  the  marine; 
nearly  seventy  years  of  age  ;  served  under  the  Neapolitan  or  Parihe- 
nopJHun  reiiubiie  against  his  late  sovereign.  When  tlie  recovery  of 
Naples  was  evidently  near,  he  applied  to  Cardmal  Kufl'o  and  the 
Duke  of  Calvirrano  tor  protection  ;  afterward  endeavoured  to  secrete 
liimself;  was  discovered  in  the  disguise  of  a  pea.sant,  and  carrifd  on 
lioard  Lord  Nelson's  ship.  He  was  tried,  found  guilty,  sentenced  to 
death  hy  hanging,  the  evening  of  his  apprehension;  the  president 
(Count  i'hurii)  of  the  court-martial  was  his  personal  enemy.  ...  He 
Rnlreated  that  he  might  be  shot— in  vain.  It  was  obvious,  says  Mr. 
ijoi.ili!  y,  from  whom  this  account  is  abridged,  tliat  Nelson  was  in- 


147 

Saw  he  the  dark-wing'd  Malice  cower  above 

The  doubtful  bowers  of  his  Armida-lovef 

Heard  he  the  sighs  which  gentler  spirits  breathe 

O'er  the  one  rose-leaf  in  the  laurel  wreath  T 

For  envy  harmless  o'er  the  laurel  blows, 

But  when  did  worm  forego  or  canker  spare  the  rose  ? 

Away;  the  centred  soul,  in  hours  like  these, 

Daunts  not  itself  with  phantom  images; 

One  voice  alone  is  heard  within  the  heart, 

"  We  loved,  and  we  must  part !" 
Yet  while  the  voice  was  heard,  and  heavily 
Round  that  low  cell  boom'd  the  voice-echoing  sea, 
As  clouds  obscure  the  unswerving  planet,  fast 
Across  the  luminous  spirit  rush'd  the  past. 

IV. 

The  boy — once  more — he  was  the  lonely  boy,* 
Dreaming  oracular  sounds  and  weird,  to  hear 

Where  the  brook  murmur'd  in  a  restless  joy, 

Or  asking  anxious  Age  with  wonder, "  What  is  fear!" 

Away,  upon  the  warrior  seas. 
Amid  the  icebergs  of  the  deathlike  main 
Where  daylight  bleaches  in  the  dreary  air  ;t 

fluenced  by  an  infatuated  attachment  to  Lady  Hamilton,  then  on 
board,  whose  hatred  against  those  whom  she  regarded  the  enemies 
of  the  Neapolitan  Court  made  her  forget  what  was  due  to  the  char- 
acter of  her  sex  as  well  as  of  her  country.  The  body  was  carried  out 
to  a  considerable  distance  and  sunk  m  the  bay,  with  three  double- 
headed  shot,  weighing  250  pounds,  lied  to  its  legs.  Between  two 
and  three  weeks  afterward,  when  the  king  was  on  board  the  Fou- 
droyant,  a  Neapolitan  fisherman  came  to  the  ship,  and  solemnly  de- 
clared that  Caraccioli  had  risen  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  wa« 
coming  as  fast  as  he  could  to  Naples,  swimming  half  out  of  the  water. 
The  day  being  fair,  Nelson,  to  please  the  king,  stood  out  to  sea;  but 
the  .ship  had  not  proceeded  far  before  a  body  was  distinctly  seen  up- 
right in  the  water,  and  approaching  them.  It  was  soon  recognised 
to  be,  indeed,  the  corpse  of  Caraccioli,  which  had  risen  and  floated, 
while  the  great  weights  attached  to  the  legs  kept  the  body  in  a  po- 
sition like  that  of  a  living  man. — Southey's  Nelson. 

*  When  a  mere  child  he  strayed  a  bird's  nesting  from  his  grand- 
mother's house ;  the  dinner-hour  elapsed  ;  he  was  absent,  and  could 
notbefound;  the  alarm  of  the  family  was  very  great,  &c.  At  length, 
after  search  had  been  made  for  him  in  various  directions,  he  was  dis- 
covered alone,  sitting  composedly  by  the  side  of  a  brook  which  he 
could  not  get  ovpr.  "  I  wonder,  child,"  said  the  old  lady,  when  she 
saw  him,  "that  hunger  and  fear  did  not  drive  you  home."  "  Fear  !" 
rephed  the  future  hero,  "  1  never  saw  fear  ;  what  is  it  ?" — Ibid. 

t  The  voyage  of  discovery  towards  the  North  Pole  in  which  Nel- 


148 

The  broken  frame,  the  fell  disease, 

And  the  dull  anguish  of  the  bed  of  pain  ; 

The  hour  when  youth  first  wrestles  with  despair* 

When  the  far  Alps  of  Fame  more  giant  seem 
Seen  through  the  morning  mists  that  struggle  with  the 

beam ; 
Till  sudden  o'er  the  spiritual  eye  there  broke 

The  radiant  orb  of  the  to-come  renown. 
And  from  the  nightmare-sleep,  prophetic  woke 

Genius — which  is  but  hope  to  action  grown — 
And  hail'd  in  Titan  crags  the  footstool  to  its  throne  ! 
Yet  ever  in  that  high  career 

What  stinging  doubts  pursued  ! 
Hiss'd  hydra  envies  in  his  ear. 

And,  round  the  steps  of  bleeding  Toil, 

The  creeping  things  that  clog  the  soil, 
And,  wh'le  they  cumber,  wound,  in  thorny  fetters  coil. 

Oh  Fountain  heard  afar,  but  rarely  view'd, 
As  the  heart  panteth  for  the  water-brook, 
So  in  the  burning  waste  doth  glory  look 

For  thy  life-giving  well,  melodious  Gratitude! 

V. 

Fast  flashing,  like  the  phosphor  gleam 

Upon  the  soiithern  seas, 
Shine,  rippling  o'er  his  waking  dream, 

The  wavelike  memories. 
They  rush'd — the  triumphs  of  that  crowded  life — 
The  hot  delight  of  Strife. 

The  Nile's  avenging  day, 
Aboukir's  reddening  bay. 

The  thunder-sceptre  ravish'd  from  the  Gaul, 

son  served.  "  The  sky  was  generally  loaded  with  hard  white  clouds, 
from  which  it  was  never  entirely  free,  even  in  the  clearest  weather." 
—  Southei/^s  IVdson. 

*  "  The  disease  baffled  all  power  of  medicine ;  he  was  reduced 
almost  to  a  skeleton  :  the  use  of  hi.s  limbs  was  for  some  time  entirely 

lost,  &,c Long  afterward,  when  the  name  of  Nelson  was 

known  as  widi^ly  as  that  of  England  itself,  he  spoke  of  the  feelings 
which  he  at  this  time  endured.  '  I  felt  impressed,'  said  he,  '  with  a 
feeling  that  I  should  never  rise  in  my  profession.  My  mind  was 
staggered  with  a  view  of  the  difficulties  I  had  to  surmount.  I  could 
discover  no  means  of  reaching  the  object  of  my  ambition.  After  a 
long  and  gloomy  revery,  in  which  I  almost  wished  to  throw  myself 
overboard,  a  sudden  glow  of  patriotism  was  kindled  within  me,'  &c. 
From  that  time  he  often  said,  a  radiant  orb  was  su.spended  in  hig 
Uiiad's  eye,  which  urged  him  onward  to  renown." — Ibid. 


149 

They  rush'd — the  visions  and  the  victories ; 

The  swarming  streets,  the  festive  hall; 
A  nation's  choral  and  sublime  acclaim  ; 

And,  as  the  air  with  one  orb's  arrowy  light, 
Earth  radiant  with  one  name  ! 

From  tliese  he  tiirn'd  to  holier  thoughts  away, 

Sad  with  the  wisdom  of  the  preacher's  song ; 

For  he  had  felt  how  loud  applauses  die. 

As  custom  hackneys  to  the  vulgar  eye 

The  fame,  not  so  the  wrong ! 
For  slander  is  the  echo  of  repute, 
And  strikes  from  hill  to  hill  wlien  glory's  tromp  is  mute. 
To  the  calm  spot  in  this  loud  world,  he  turn'd 

Where  laugh'd  the  eyes  too  young  his  loss  to  weep ; 
Oh,  how,  once  more,  the  boding  father  yearn'd 

To  watch  one  fair  face  in  the  happy  sleep. 
As  when  (that  parting  hour)  in  pious  care 
By  his  child's  couch  he  knelt* — she  did  not  hear  his 
prayer ! 

VI. 

The  phantom  shapes  are  flown ! 

As  ghosts  before  the  day. 
The  unsubstantial  memories  glide  away 

Into  their  closing  grave. 

The  hour  has  claim'd  its  own ! 

Aloft,  the  hurrying  tread,  the  gathering  hum ; 
Around,  the  brightening  sky,  the  fresh'ning  water; 

More  near  and  near  the  fated  squadrons  come; 
Fast  o'er  the  dread  suspense  rushes  the  storm  of  slaugh- 
ter, 

And  the  heart  bounds  forth  from  its  gloom 

Over  the  tides  of  its  solemn  doom. 

As  the  hero's  bark,  when  the  rousing  gale 

Shakes  the  sullen  sleep  from  its  gladdening  sail, 
Bounds  over  the  roaring  wave  ! 

VII. 

Hurrah !  hurrah !  from  wave  to  sky, 
Arose  the  sea-queen's  signal-cry ; 

•^  Horatia  Nelson  Thompson,  believed  to  be  his  daughter,  and  so 
indeed  he  called  her  the  last  time  that  he  pronounced  her  name. 
The  last  minutes  which  Nelson  passed  at  Merton  were  employed  in 
praying  over  this  child  as  she  lay  sleeping. — Southey's  Nelson. 

N2 


150 

From  heart  to  heart  electric  ran 

Those  words  of  simple  beauty, 
England  expects  that  every  man 

This  day  shall  do  his  duty  ! 

VIII. 

Full  on  the  foe  the  sunbeams  shine. 

And  our  seamen  gaze  on  the  glittering  line, 

Thirty-and-three  their  numbers  be, 

Like  giants  they  stride  through  the  groaning  sea. 

Our  seamen  gazed  with  a  glad  delight; 

Ne'er  had  they  seen  such  a  goodly  sight ; 

Then   they  glanced  at  each  other,  and  "  Oh,"  they 
said, 

"  How  well  they  will  look  at  our  own  *  Spithead.'  "* 

IX. 

At  the  head  of  the  line  goes  the  "  Victory,"! 

With  Nelson  on  the  deck ; 
And  on  his  breast  the  orders  shine| 

Like  the  stars  on  a  shatter'd  wreck. 
For  ruthless  had  the  lightning  been 

That  flash'd  from  the  stormy  fame ; 
And  only  spared  the  laurels,  green^ 

O'er  the  rents  of  the  ruin'd  frame. 
"  Look  out,  look  out,"  cried  Nelson,  "  see" 

(For  so  the  fight  began) 
*'  How '  the  Sovereign'll  steers  through  the  Frenchman's 

line 
*  Astern  of  the  Santa  Ann." 
"  Look  out,  look  out,"  cried  CoUingwood, 
As  he  burst  through  the  Frenchman's  line, 
"  If  Nelson  could  in  our  place  have  stood, 

*  The  sun  shone  on  the  sails  of  the  enemy,  and  their  well-formed 
line,  with  their  numerous  three-deckers,  made  an  appearance  which 
any  other  assailants  would  have  thought  formidable.  But  the  Brit- 
ish sailors  only  admired  the  beauty  and  the  splendour  of  the  spectacle  ; 
and,  in  full  confidence  of  winning  what  they  saw,  remarked  to  each 
other,  "  What  a  line  sight  yonder  ships  would  make  at  Spithead  V 
— Southey's  IVelson. 

t  "  The  Victory,"  Nelson's  ship. 

j  He  wore  that  day,  as  usual,  his  admiral's  frockcoat,  bearing  on 
the  left  breast  four  stars  of  the  different  orders  with  which  he  was 
invested. — Ibid. 

()  I  need  scarcely  observe,  that,  according  to  the  poetical  super 
stition  of  the  ancients,  the  lightning  never  scathed  the  laurel. 

II  The  Royal  Sovereign,  commanded  by  CoUingwood. 


151 

And  have  been  but  here,  the  first  to  steer 

Through  the  midst  of  the  Frenchman's  Ime."* 
Now  from  the  fleet  of  the  foeman  past 

Ahead  of  "the  Victory," 
A  four-deck'd  ship  with  a  flagless  mast, 

An  Anak  of  the  sea; 
His  gaze  on  the  ship  Lord  Nelson  cast, 

"  Oho,  my  old  friend,"  quoth  he, 
"  Since  again  we  have  met,  we  must  all  be  glad 
To  pay  our  respects  to  the  Trinidad  !"t 
Full  on  the  bow  of  the  giant  foe 

Our  gallant  "  Victory"  runs  ; 
Through  the  dark'ning  smoke  the  thunder  broke 

O'er  lier  deck  from  a  hundred  guns  : 
But  we  answer'd  not  by  a  single  shot. 
Though  our  booms  and  the  maintop  fell, 

Until  we  were  suited  with  two  to  one. 

For  we  liked  the  odds  we  had  always  won. 

Here,  to  the  left,  at  length  we  bad 

The  saint  of  the  ocean — Trinidad ; 

There,  to  the  right,  loom'd  the  bulky  might 
Of  the  grim  Redoubtable. 

Then  out  in  her  pride,  and  from  either  side,. 
Spoke  the  wrath  of  the  "  Victory." 
Cries  Hardy,  "  My  lord,  we  must  run  on  board 
One  of  their  braggarts  to  break  the  line  : 
Which  shall  it  be  ?"     Saith  our  king  of  the  sea 
(And  we  heard  through  the  rt)ar  his  careless  voice), 
"It  matters  not  much,  you  may  take  your  choice."! 
So  the  helm  to  port.     O'er  the  bounding  brine 

With  a  shout  we  burst,  where  the  shot  came  worst 
From  the  grim  Redoubtable. 
As  swarms  of  bees  on  the  summer  trees, 
Her  tops  were  filled  with  the  Tyrolese,i^ 
And  their  bullets  came  with  a  dastard  aim 
Round  the  mark  which  the  brave  would  have  deem'd 
divine ; 

Where,  o'er  the  gentlest  heart  that  e'er 

*  "  What  would  Nelson  give  to  be  here  !"  said  Collingwood,  de- 
hghted  at  being  first  in  the  heat  of  the  fire.— Southey's  Nelson. 

t  The  Santissima  Trinidad.  Nelson's  old  acquaintance,  as  be  used 
to  call  her,  was  distinguishable  only  by  her  four  decks. 

t  "  Take  your  choice,  Hardy,  it  does  not  signify  much." — 
Ibid. 

()  "  Her  tops,  like  those  of  all  the  enemy's  ships,  were  filled  with 
riflemen  (the  Tyrolese)." — Ibid. 


152 

Bade  carnage  cease  or  conquest  spare, 
The  stars  of  glory  shine. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  foeman  press'd 

Our  dauntless  Temeraire ; 
Boarded  in  turn — for  the  ships  were  four — 
And  the  huge  guns  plied  with  a  slackened  roar, 
As,  breast  to  breast,  the  vessels  rest ; 
We  fought  like  landsmen  there  ! 
The  Redoubtable  no  more  replied 
To  our  guns.     "  She  has  struck,"  our  Nelson  cried  ; 
"  No  pennon  waves  on  her  sullen  mast ; 
She  has  struck,  and  the  time  to  destroy  is  past  ;• 
I  have  prayM  our  Lord  with  a  Christian's  prayer. 
Though  our  arms  may  win,  that  our  hearts  may  spare." 
Scarce  the  words  were  spoke,  through  the  lurid  smoke, 

Oh  God,  we  saw  hira  fall ; 
From  the  ship  he  had  bid  our  guns  forbear, 
Came  the  murderous  rifle-ball. 

XII. 

As  down  Sicilian  Etna's  burning  side, 
The  waning  terrors  of  the  liquid  hell 

Fainter  and  dimlier  grow  ! 
So  the  spent  rage  of  battle  grimly  died 

O'er  the  far-booming  ocean's  labouring  swell ; 

But,  ever  and  anon,  the  sudden  flame 
Shot  from  some  flying  sail, 

And  the  last  vengeance  of  the  vanquish'd  came 
In  loud  despair  upon  the  cloudy  gale. 

They  fly — still  dealing  death — they  fly — the  foe  ! 

So  lions  from  the  circliug  spears  retire, 

With  horrent  jaws  that  menace  as  they  go ; 
So  hurr}-ing  comets  that  depart  in  ire. 
Shake  from  their  demon-urns  the  swart  malignant  fire  ! 

XIII. 

But  where  was  he,  the  noblest  son 

Of  the  triumphant  isle  1 
Where — England's  loftiest  victory  won — 

Her  hero  of  the  Nile  ? 

*  "  He  twice  gave  orders  to  cease  firing  upon  the  Redoubtable, 
supposing  that  she  had  struck,  because  her  great  guns  were  silent. 
From  this  ship,  which  he  had  thus  twice  spared,  he  received  his 
death.    A  ball,"  tkc. — Sotuhey's  XeUon. 


153 

Lo,  on  his  couch,  the  victor-victim  lying, 

Save  to  the  few,  the  fatal  stroke  unknown ; 
Above,  his  gladsome  crew,  his  pennon  flying, 

And  he,  with  that  dark  angel,  death,  alone ! 

But  ever  as  the  loud  hurra* 
Timed  with  triumphant  peal  his  latest  day. 

By  each  new  conquest  o*er  the  scattering  foe, 
Flash'd  on  the  ashen  cheek  the  flickering  glow. 
And,  like  a  star  that  pales  beneath  the  morn, 

When  gradual  broadening  o'er  the  solemn  sky, 
So  life  grew  dark  as  glory  drew  more  nigh! 

Vain  on  that  gentle  heart  the  levin  came  ; 

Nor  bays  nor  mingling  myrtle  there  uptom ; 
And  thoughts,  like  echoes  in  a  shrine,  repeat 
Familiar  memories  indistinctly  sweet. 

That  blend  his  England's  with  his  Emma's  name.f 

XIV. 

The  last  guns  heard  that  famous  day 

Along  the  deep  were  dying ; 
No  flag,  save  ours,  within  the  bay 

On  a  single  mast  was  flying  : 
When  the  captain  came  where  Nelson  lay, 

The  chaplain  by  his  side. 
His  hand  he  press'd,  his  cheek  he  kiss'd  : 

"  Look  up,'"  the  captain  cried ; 
"  Twenty  have  struck  and  the  rest  have  fled, 

We  have  won  the  victor}- 1'' 
"Thank  God,  thank  God,"  then  feebly  said 

The  Sidney  of  the  sea  ;X 
"My  duty  is  done."^     So  the  race  was  run, 

And  thus  our  Nelson  died. 

♦  As  often  as  a  ship  struck,  the  crew  of  the  Victory  hurra'd,  and  at 
every  hurra  a  risible  expression  of  joy  gleamed  in  the  eyes  and 
marked  the  countenance  of  the  dying  hero. — Soiakev's  iVekon. 

t  "  Next  to  his  country  she  occupied  his  thoughts." — Ibid. 

X  Nelson  resembled  Sidney  in  his  fate,  but  yet  more  in  his  human- 
ity. Each  insisted,  at  the  last,  that  the  surgeon  should  leave  him 
and  attend  to  those  to  whom  Jie  might  be  useful. 

J<  "  Thank  God,  I  have  done  my  duty  !"    These  words  he  repeat- 
y  pronounced,  and  they  were  the  last  words  which  he  uttered.— 
Ibid. 


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Harper  cf  Brothers.  i 

Select  Orations  of  Cicero,  with  an  English  Commen- 
tary, and  Historical,  Geographical,  and  Legat  Indexes.  By 
Cliarles  Anthon,  LL.D.,  &c.     12ino. 

A  Life  of  George  Washington.  In  Latin  Prose.  By 
Fr.incis  Glass,  A.M.,  of  Ohio.  Edited  by  J.  N.  Reynolda.  12mo. 
With  a  Portrait 

Initia  Latina,  or  the  Rudiments  of  the  Latin  Tongue.  Il- 
lustrated by  Progressive  Exercises.    By  Charles  H.  Lyon.    12n;o. 

Miniature  Lexicon  of  the  English  Language.  By 
Lyman  Cobb. 

A  Year  in   Spain.     By    a   Young   American.     In    3 

vols.  12ino.     With  Vignette  Embellishments. 

Spain  Revisited.    By  the  Author  of  "  A  Year  in  Spain." 

In  2  vols.  12mo.     With  Engravings. 

The  American  in  England.  By  the  Author  of  "A 
Year  in  Spain."    In  2  vols.  12mo. 

Polynesian  Researches,  during  a  Residence  of  nearly 

Eight  Years  in  the  Society  and  Sandwich  Islands.  By  Wil- 
liam Ellis.    In  4  vols.  12mo.    With  Maps,  &c. 

Travels  and  Researches  in  Caffraria  ;  describing  the 

Character.  Customs,  and  Moral  Condition  of  the  Tribes  inhabit- 
ing thnt  Portion  of  Southern  Africa.  By  Stephen  Kay.  r2ino. 
With  Maps,  &c. 

England  and  the  English.   By  E.  L.  BuUver,  Esq.,  M.P. 

In  2  vols.  12iuo. 

Evidence  of  the  Truth  of  the  Christian  Religion, 
derived  from  the  literal  Fultilment  of  Prophecy.  By  the  Rev. 
Alexander  Keith.     12ino. 

The  Letters  of  the  British  Spy.  By  William  AVirt, 
Esq.  To  which  is  preti.xed,  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Au 
Ihor.     12mo.     With  a  Portrait. 

Directions  for  Invigorating  and  Prolonging  Life  ;  or, 
the  Invalid's  Oracle.  By  William  Kitdimer,  ML).  Improved 
by  T.  S.  Barrett,  M.D.     12mo. 

The  Cook's  Oracle  and  Housekeeper's  Manual,    Con. 

taining  Keceipts  for  Cookery,  and  Directions  for  Carving.  Will, 
a  Complete  .System  of  Cookery  for  Catholic  FamiUes.  By  Wil 
liam  Kitchiner,  M.D.     12mo. 

The  Plays  of  Philip  Massinger.     In  3  vols.  18mo 

With  a  Portrait. 

I* 


6  Valuable  Worh$  Pubhshed  ty 

Tlie   Dramatic  Works  of  John   Ford.     With   Notes 

Critical  and  Explanatory.    In  2  vols.  18mo. 

Wonderful  Characters ;  Comprising  Memoirs  and 
Anecdotes  of  the  most  Remarkable  Persons  of  every  Age  and 
Nation.    By  Henry  Wilson.    8vo.    With  Engravings. 

Paris  and  the  Parisians  in  1835.      By  Frances  Trol- 

lopc.    8vo.     With  Engravings. 

A.  Narrative  of  Four  Voyages  to  tlie  South  Sea,  North 
and  South  Pacific  Ocean,  Chinese  Sea,  Ethiopi'c  and  Southern 
Atlantic  Ocean,  and  Antarctic  Ocean.  From  the  year  1822  to 
1831.  Comprising  an  Account  of  some  valuable  Discoveries,  in- 
cluding the  Massacre  Islands,  where  thirteen  of  the  Author's 
Crew  were  massacred  and  eaten  by  Cannibals.  By  Captain  Ben 
jamin  Morrell,  Jun.    In  one  volume,  8vo. 

Narrative  of  a  Voyage  to  the  South  Seas,  in  1829-1831. 

By  Abby  Jane  Morrell,  who  accompanied  her  husband.  Captain 
Benjamin  Morrell,  Jun.,  of  the  Schooner  Antarctic.     12mo. 

Traits  of  the  Tea-Party ;  being  a  Memoir  of  George  R. 
T.  Hewes,  one  of  the  Last  of  its  Survivors.  With  a  History  of 
that  Transaction  ;  Reminiscences  of  the  Massacre,  and  the  Siege, 
and  other  Stories  of  old  Times.  By  a  Bostonian.  18rao.  With 
a  Portrait. 

An  Elementary  Treatise  on  Mechanics.  Translated 
from  the  French  of  M.  Boucharlat.  With  Additions  and  Emen 
dations,  designed  to  adapt  it  to  the  use  of  the  Cadets  of  the  U.  S. 
Military  Academy.     By  Edward  H.  Courtcnay.   8vo. 

The  Life  of  John  Jay  :  with  Selections  from  his  Cor- 
respondence and  Miscellaneous  Papers.  By  his  Son,  William 
Jay.     In  2  vols.  8vo      With  a  Portrait. 

Annals  of  Tryon  County ;  or,  the  Border  Warfare  of 
New-York,  during  the  Revolution.    By  W.  W,  Campbell.    8vo. 

V  Narrative  of  Events  connected  with  the  Rise  and 

Progress  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  Virginia.  To 
which  is  added  an  Appendix,  containing  the  Journals  of  the  Con- 
ventions in  Virginia  from  the  Commencement  to  the  present  Time. 
By  Francis  L.  Hawkes.    8vo. 

A  Memoir  of  the  Life  of  William  Livingston,  Member 

of  Congress  in  1774,  1775,  and  177C;  Delegate  to  the  Federal 
Convention  in  1787,  and  Governor  of  the  State  of  New-Jersey 
from  1776  to  1790.  With  Extracts  from  his  Correspondence,  and 
Notices  of  various  Members  of  his  Family.  By  The<}dore  Sedg- 
wick, Jun.     8vo.     With  a  Portrait. 

England  and  America.     A  Comparison  of  the  Social 

and  Political  State  of  both  Nations.    8v6. 


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